


Causality

by ClaudiaRain



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Falling In Love, Friendship, Humor, This team is a family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-07-10 10:30:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 28,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6980683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClaudiaRain/pseuds/ClaudiaRain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mick starts repeating his visit with Leonard in 2013 and it doesn't take long for Sara to join him. Maybe it's not the best idea they've ever had, but things will work out. Probably.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is what came from me dreaming up ways to fix things. I've never cross-posted anything here before, I typically live on FF.net, but I've thought about trying this site and figured a new story was a great time to do so.

_If it's any consolation, I can always bring you back to this particular time and place._

Rip Hunter only made the offer once, yet Mick Rory has replayed the words dozens – hundreds – of times since.

He'd initially rejected the idea as far too painful.

 _I'm fine_. _Just let it be_.

He'd barely gotten through his first trip to see Len in 2013. As time inevitably passes, though, he begins to seriously consider the offer. Life without his old partner is much harder than he'd anticipated. Everyone keeps saying things will get better, so why does it seem like they're only getting worse?

Eventually, he decides there's nothing wrong with another visit or two; it will be good for him to see his partner again. He needs that tangible, real-life interaction with Leonard to remind him why he's doing this. Because the truth is, far too often, he thinks about walking away. He has the others, sure, and sometimes they're…tolerable. But none of them are Leonard Snart.

The only reason he's stuck around this long is that he feels compelled to make sure none of these idiots get themselves killed while catapulting through time and space without much heed for the consequences. (And maybe it's ironic that his answer to his own problem involves yet more time travel, but he glosses right over that contradiction.)

It annoys him when he thinks about how his friendship with Leonard changed him. He would have been content following the same path for the rest of his life, stealing and burning his way to the grave, but Len _had_ to ruin it for him, didn't he? The bastard had gone and made him _care_. It's practically unforgivable and he wants to tell him that, somehow. Even if he can't use those exact words.

So he ends up visiting 2013 for a second time. A month after that, there's a third trip. He only goes when there are things weighing on him, things he wants to tell his old friend (that he can't). He consoles himself with the second-best option – vague conversations with Len that are generally similar to his first visit. He sticks around for longer than a minute now, though, trying to stretch out their interactions as reasonably as he can.

"Does it help?" Sara asks from behind him, right as Mick is about to board the jump ship for his fourth visit to 2013. The way he almost skips a step is the only indication that she's surprised him. That's a rare thing, and it's lucky that _she's_ the one who did it, since he won't hit her in retaliation. Or burn her to a crisp.

Mick faces her, considering the question. He wants to answer quickly, thoughtlessly, but he doesn't. Sara deserves more than that, because out of all of them, she's the only one who can even begin to fathom his loss (and maybe by now he should admit that it's _their_ loss).

"I don't know," he says, finally.

"Then why bother going?"

"It's better than nothing."

"What a ringing endorsement," she says, unimpressed.

"I didn't ask your opinion, did I?" He's obviously looking for a fight.

She won't give it to him. "I just…I'd imagine that it'd make things more difficult. To see him and be reminded…" _that we lost him? That we can never have him back?_

His irritation disappears when he sees her struggle to comprehend the choices he's making. "He's _there_. We can talk, even if we don't say much. Even if he'll never really understand why I wanted to see him that night."

She doesn't tell Mick that she thinks he's taking the easy way out. If he doesn't have to stop seeing Leonard, he won't have to deal with the loss. Not really. It sparks such an insane jealousy in her that she's afraid to admit it out loud for fear of what she might say. Or do.

She's already had this argument with Rip a dozen times – if Mick can repeatedly visit Leonard on the same day and time, how come she can't visit Laurel? Why can't she pick a meeting with Len on a day when he knows her? Rip's answer is always the same: after the destruction of the Oculus, this spot is the only one that Gideon can (almost) certainly say won't catastrophically change anything. In other words, the AI is relatively sure there's no way their visits to that time in 2013 will cause them to significantly alter the current timeline. They don't have to worry that the wrong word or action will end with them inadvertently erasing themselves from existence.

Frustratingly enough, Rip doesn't know _why_ any of that is the case, nor can Gideon adequately explain it, though she likes to go into speeches about infinite timelines and causal loops that Sara can't follow too closely. She doesn't completely buy it, either, because if there's one exception, there are bound to be others, right? Gideon concedes that there are probably other spots that are equally 'safe' so to speak, but the AI hasn't found any – at least, not yet (and Sara's begged her to keep looking).

Mick must see the warring emotions on Sara's face. "It's not what you're thinking. Trust me. He's never who you want him to be." He sighs heavily, as if maybe these visits aren't accomplishing what he'd hoped they would. "I don't know how to say goodbye to him. He's my only friend."

"No, he's not," she snaps, punching Mick on the shoulder, ignoring the way he scowls at her. "Not anymore."

**XXXXXX**

After losing Leonard and learning about Laurel's death within the same twenty-four hours (thank you, universe), Sara had found a comfortable place of numbness. Not letting herself feel had seemed like the obvious solution. It was easy to throw herself into missions, rescue those who needed it, and take down the people who seemed to exist just to cause pain – and her denial worked fantastically. For a while.

Then the feeling starts slipping back into her life, no matter how much she tries to keep it out. She'll catch a glimpse of a face in a crowd that reminds her of Laurel and she won't be able to breathe from the pain of it. Or she'll feel a sudden icy wind that brings with it a sensation of aching loss. Most of her happiest memories don't help because they're filled with her sister. The very place she _lives_ doesn't help because she sees the ghost of Leonard in every room.

That leads to her sitting cross-legged in the hallway, waiting for Mick outside his room; she knows he's going to take a fifth trip soon. The others never join him, not after that first visit (and technically no one else is supposed to go to 2013, either – at least that was the ground rule Rip had devised to try and 'limit impact on the timeline despite what Gideon claims is an acceptable amount of interference').

Not that Sara's ever been good at listening to him.

She jumps to her feet when she sees Mick coming. "I've been thinking about what you said, that it helps to see him even if he's not the Leonard we lost."

He can tell where this is going and tries to shut her down instantly. "Not a good idea, Blondie."

"Why not?" When he moves to step around her, she blocks his path, crossing her arms and letting him know the conversation will be over when _she_ says it's over.

"He doesn't know you."

"He doesn't know _you_ either," she points out, and they both know she's not talking about 'Mick Rory' in general, but rather the person he's become these past few months with her and the team and Leonard – a different Leonard who they'll never see again.

"We know each other fine," he argues, not believing the words even as he says them.

"You're as much a stranger to the past version of him as I am, yet you don't have a problem with it."

"Maybe I have a _lot_ of problems with it," he growls. His subsequent look indicates he's not going to talk about those problems with her, either.

She's taken aback, but forges on, because she can't let him talk her out of this. Not when she's been struggling and this has been the one beacon she's held onto for the past week. "One time," she says, hopefully. "I don't need to talk to him. Seeing him would be enough." _Would it, though?_ Forget lying to Mick to get him to agree to take her along without a fight – if she's already lying to _herself_ then this plan is probably doomed before it even begins.

"Us showing up together would go over real well," Mick says sarcastically, in a way that painfully reminds her of Len. "He definitely won't want to know who you are or why we're there together. Leonard Snart never questions anything."

"You're being purposefully difficult. Obviously we'd go in separately. I'd hang out in a quiet corner for a few minutes and then leave. That's all I want."

He already knows he's not going to be able to talk her out of it. Some foolish part of him still hopes, though. Because what he's been doing…it's not good.

"Take the next week or so to think about it. _Really_ think about it. If this is some passing thought then you need to forget it. Once you start, it feels like it's impossible to stop."

"What, like some kind of time traveling addiction?"

"I don't know what it is, but it's not what you're expecting, trust me."

"I've already thought about it. I'm not going to change my mind."

He considers her for a moment. "Before…everything happened," (and she feels her heart break at how he can't actually speak about Leonard's death out loud in specific terms), "he told me your decisions were usually pretty questionable."

They'd talked about her? She wonders what else those conversations had consisted of… "Looking at my past, no one can argue that."

"He thought you two were a good match that way, because most of his life decisions weren't much better. Until this team came along." He hesitates, wondering if it counts as betraying a secret if the one who told it to you was gone. Well, he'd never had much in the way of morals before now, anyways. "He thought that he was one of the worst decisions you'd ever made. And that you were one of his best."

She feels stuck. In place. In time. Her breathing isn't as even as it should be. "But we hadn't…I mean we weren't…"

Mick's silent for a long moment. "Yeah. You were."

She turns away from him, rubbing her shoe along the grating on the floor. It surprises her how much it _hurts_ to hear someone acknowledge a truth that she'd barely been able to admit to herself. As if Mick's awareness of her and Leonard's connection made it more real and reminded her of what she'd never have. It had slipped away from her, time running through her hands like sand. The harder she held on, the more of it she lost.

He takes pity on her and keeps talking when it's clear she can't. "For what it's worth, I told him he was wrong. As usual. Leonard Snart might have been a lot of things, but he was never anyone's worst decision."

"No he wasn't," she agrees. He would have been the opposite. If they'd had more time.

"Please reconsider going to see him," Mick urges her again, as he moves past her to enter his room. "This is a road that you don't want to go down."

She nods, because it seems better than a spoken lie, and one thought keeps running through her mind.

_I don't know where else to go._

**XXXXXX**

Numbness doesn't work anymore, no matter how hard she tries to pull it around herself like a protective shield.

Grief wields the same unrelenting force as the ocean, wave after wave crashing, any one of them threatening to drown her. She fights through them one at a time, but when they hit unexpectedly (or too fast) they threaten to pull her under. And this time she isn't prepared.

Things have been particularly difficult – another mission with people they can't save, and the pain of that on top of what she's already going through…the waves are too much this time, too high, and she can't fight through them on her own.

She doesn't want to drown out here alone.

When Mick boards the jump ship to make his fifth visit to 2013, Sara's already inside, strapped into one of the chairs with a mutinous look on her face that challenges him to try and throw her out.

He takes a seat and orders Gideon to leave without so much as acknowledging Sara's presence.

They land in 2013 and she swears to Mick that she doesn't want to talk to Leonard or interfere in any way. She instinctively knows that seeing him in person, seeing that he's 'alive' in some sense (even if it's in the past) will help her – only a little, maybe, but a little is all she needs to get through this particular storm.

After her earnest speech, Mick nods slightly, and she figures that's as much approval as she's ever going to get from him.

He tells her their destination is a ten minute walk away, and when she hears it's a strip club, she sends him an exasperated look. Mick mumbles something about not wanting to raise suspicions so he'd picked one of their 'regular' hang-outs.

She's eager to get there, her pace repeatedly overtaking his. She keeps hanging back to wait for him to catch up.

"We're supposed to be late," he reminds her, for the third time, when she pointedly checks her watch that Gideon has synchronized for the time and date in 2013. Since Mick's initial message had been for Leonard to meet him at 8, he repeats that request every time. They should be late, Mick explains, because he'd been late the first time, nerves unexpectedly getting the best of him. It makes him feel better to try and keep the minor details of his visits as similar as possible, like maybe he's messing with the universe less if there aren't a dozen different versions of this same meeting in existence somewhere out there.

Gideon hasn't given him much guidance about these trips aside from the basic gist of: _Don't say or do anything that might tip Leonard off about the future._

Sara doesn't see why it matters if they try to keep things the same, especially because Gideon has confirmed that the 2013 visit 'rewrites' itself each time. Mick always jumps to the exact same moment, so in theory, any serious mistake could be fixed by immediately returning and rewriting the meeting (yet again).

Thanks to Mick's maddeningly slow pace on their walk, Sara has an irrational fear that Len will have given up and left by the time they get there. Mick repeatedly insists that Len will stay until at least twenty past 8 (and she wonders how he knows that…had he tested it one of these times?).

She enters the club first and her eyes have to acclimate to the dim lighting. Right as she's calculating her odds of getting a contact high from the place, she catches sight of Leonard alone at one of the tables near the bar.

She stops so abruptly that she nearly trips over her own feet.

It's inconceivable. It's _insane_. It's…time travel. She shouldn't feel this surprised. She knew he'd be here, but it's still mind-bending to try and reconcile how he can be _both dead and alive_ at the same time.

This Leonard will meet the exact same fate as hers. In three years.

She feels an overwhelming surge of protectiveness, actually takes a step in his direction – to what? Warn him? The thought is patently absurd. What could she say that he'd find remotely plausible? _Hey, in three years we have to blow up the time stream and you decide to sacrifice yourself to do it, so maybe try to come up with an alternative solution before then. And also, I didn't realize I could have loved you until it was too late, so let's start things sooner next time._ She can already picture him signaling for the bouncers to drag her out.

She abruptly changes course, taking a sharp turn toward the far end of the bar. She orders a drink and wonders if Mick was right. If she shouldn't have come here.

Mick walks in a minute after her and orders his own drink before joining Leonard. She's situated so that she can see Leonard's face while Mick's back is to her. Even from a distance, she can tell how awkward the interaction is and she feels terrible for Mick. Talking to this version of Leonard must be so disorienting, like he's there but also not, and she can't imagine it.

Despite her earlier resolve that she can't warn Leonard about the future, there's a growing desire in her, whispering that she should join them. She wouldn't have to mention anything to Len about the future, about who they will become in the world (or to each other).

Twenty paces, stop at their table, flirt a little. Introduce herself as an old friend of Mick's or maybe skip that altogether and just ask Leonard if he wants to buy her a drink. He probably would – she remembers their first interactions, the spark of attraction they'd shared. She'd intrigued him once without even trying. She could certainly do it again with little effort.

Sharing one small, innocuous moment in a bar in 2013 wouldn't be enough to affect the timeline, right? Certainly not when he doesn't know who she is and will forget the encounter by the next day. The risk wouldn't be that great, either, not when she knows they could easily rewrite this evening if anything went wrong with the timeline…

It'd be _so_ easy to go over and see him. At this exact moment in her life, she'd be hard-pressed to say she's ever wanted anything more.

But she won't do it, because this Leonard isn't _her_ Leonard (not yet) and it wouldn't be fair to him to do that.

She's fine watching from afar. This is all she'd needed. Just a few minutes of watching him.

This is enough.

She orders another drink, tells the bartender to make it stronger this time.

There's growing suspicion on Leonard's face the longer Mick keeps talking. Never easily played for a fool, Len had noticed something was wrong the moment he'd seen his partner arrive. Sara wonders if Mick realizes just how wary Leonard is, or if he's too wrapped up in his own grief and unhappiness to give it much thought.

A few minutes pass and it appears their conversation is ending. When Mick gets up to leave, she catches a glimpse of his face and sees the faintest hint of despair. She wants to kick him. Hard. Because this is not making things better.

It's making them worse.

Sara decides to talk to him about it later. She's not exactly the poster child for making the best choices, but maybe she can give him a fresh perspective, convince him this is hurting him more than it's helping.

She waits for Mick to exit the club first, not wanting to give any hint or clue that they know each other, not when Leonard is over there brooding about his friend and already suspicious enough to pick up on anything that might be out of place – even a mistake as small as a shared, commiserating glance between friends who've suffered the same unimaginable loss.

She finishes her drink and counts out some money for the bartender before heading to the door.

A shiver runs up her spine and nerves tingle at the back of her neck as if she's being watched.

She casts one last casual glance at Leonard before leaving, but he's looking at his drink and not at her.

**XXXXXX**

When Sara returns home, it's excruciating, and she wonders if Mick had felt the same way after his first visit to 2013. It's crushing to go from a time where she could literally reach out and touch Leonard to one where he doesn't exist. It takes her several days to recover (and it's in those moments, when she's crying in her room, that she understands the look she'd seen on Mick in the club).

One thought helps her come out of it – she can always see Leonard again.

She keeps reminding herself of that fact and quickly rebounds. It feels like the waves of grief are coming further apart; she can easily breathe again. She's more cheerful, upbeat, and hopeful than she's been in months. _Months_.

If something as simple as seeing Leonard from across a room gives her more hope than anything else, who is she to deny herself that simple comfort? Who is _anyone_?

She tries to talk to Mick about what she'd seen on his face in the club, that moment of anguish, but he brushes her off. He tells her that he always gets melancholy when he leaves, and she believes him because she'd felt the same and she'd gotten over it. Besides, who is she to tell anyone else how they should deal with their pain?

She joins Mick for visit six because it had only taken one trip for her to realize she can't stay away.

On their walk to the club, Mick lingers further behind than he did last time. At first, she waits for him to catch up, then she abandons her efforts and walks the rest of the way by herself. She beats him there by a good five minutes and it gives her the opportunity to watch Leonard while he's alone.

It's eerie to see him repeat the same small actions and gestures that he did last time – but obviously he would, since it's the same night all over again. He sips his drink, checks the time, and mostly broods (presumably about life in general, though who knows with him).

To be honest, the fact that he does anything at _all_ is enough to take her breath away. She knew he was alive here, and gone in her time, but to see him a mere thirty feet away, living and breathing and drinking and _being alive_ …it threatens to break something in her. She thinks that the only reason it doesn't is due to her sheer force of will – _I can always come back_ , she whispers to herself, over and over and _over_ again.

Mick eventually arrives, ordering his drink and going over to his partner. His footsteps seem slower tonight, like maybe he can't do this too many more times.

She watches the same events occur between them: the awkward interaction, Leonard's confusion and suspicion, Mick's abject unhappiness…she gets this surreal feeling like she's watching a twisted stage play, except this isn't a play, it's _real life_. Both she and Mick are acutely aware that the Leonard they eventually team up with in 2016 will have these memories for the rest of his life – or at least, the memories from their most recent 2013 trip.

They have to tread lightly.

They have to be _careful_.

It startles Sara – the sudden need she has to walk across the room and squeeze Mick's shoulder in an attempt to ease his pain. Or to joke and flirt with Leonard and then kiss the suspicion right off his face.

She orders a double shot to try and force those thoughts out of her head.

The vantage point she's chosen means that she can only see Leonard's face and not Mick's, the same as last time. She sips her drink and Mick glances back at her, then quickly away. Almost like he doesn't want Leonard to notice she's there (not that he'd know who she was – _this_ Leonard Snart does not know Sara Lance in _any_ time period).

They finish talking and Mick leaves. Sara knows that's her cue. She finishes her drink quickly, pulls out some half-folded bills (she's going to go broke if she keeps spending this much money in 2013 – and it makes her wonder, if she keeps visiting the same time and spending this much, where does all that money eventually go? Lost in the time stream? Who the hell knows?).

She stands up, stretches, and feels a familiar sensation of being watched, just like their last visit. She looks over, not expecting anything different (time repeats itself, right?).

Except Len's not staring morosely into his glass as if contemplating the meaning of life; this time he's looking at her. _Right_ _at her_. And their eyes meet with a jolt of electric shock.

 _Leonard!_ her mind screams at her. _That's Leonard, go over there, talk to him, explain to him…_

The rational part of her takes over before it's too late and warns her that she can't go over to him. This might be Leonard, but not the one she knows. It's the past version of him and she can't take the risk of ruining _all_ their lives on a fleeting whim.

She does the only thing she can – she turns and leaves.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone is wondering, nothing I ever write will end unhappily.

Rip Hunter is none too thrilled at Mick and Sara's new choice of pastime.

"You can't keep visiting him in 2013!" he admonishes. He's cornered them in the weapons room, which maybe isn't his best plan ever, but he's (reasonably) sure they won't try to take him out.

"You're the one who told me you could always bring me to that same point in time," Mick reminds him, "whenever I wanted."

"Yes, but I thought you'd go _sparingly_ ," Rip stresses. "And what do you do? Treat it like a regular standing appointment at a spa!"

"What does it matter?" Sara asks, not looking up from where she's polishing – is that a katana? "We only go when we're not needed here and we don't bother anyone else by doing it."

"It's not…" Rip struggles to find the right word, "… _healthy_. You both know that I have also experienced immeasurable loss. This is not the way to handle it."

"Oh, sorry," Sara says, irritation creeping into her tone, "maybe we should deal with it like you did. Steal a ship and traverse time and the galaxy in an attempt to change events of the timeline. Maybe we could stop Leonard's death, or my sister's – but wait, you told us that was impossible and we couldn't do it because we'd somehow 'make things worse'."

Mick's never heard her make a better point. "Be honest, Hunter, if Gideon told you there was a stable point in time where you could always visit your wife and son, would you be able to deny yourself that?"

No, he wouldn't, and he knows he's the last person to lecture _anyone_ about how to grieve properly. He collapses onto a stack of crates against the wall, rubbing his hands over his face in weary acceptance. "I see what you're getting at, but that still doesn't mean what you're doing is the best way to cope. Excessive time travel isn't good for either of you, and I don't just mean emotionally. It could cause actual physical harm."

Sara wonders, not for the first time, what the consequences might be if she throws _him_ off the ship. Would Gideon stop an attempted mutiny? "First our mental health, now our physical health…what's the next excuse going to be? Do you have a half dozen lined up and you're just waiting for us to believe one?"

Rip knows he deserves her skepticism. "I'm not exaggerating about what this could do to you; you've experienced symptoms before on long trips through time. Repeated visits to the same time and place could have similar effects. Have you had any disorientation, aphasia, blurred vision –"

"Come to think of it, I've experienced all of those at various times," Mick allows, pulling out a flask and taking a long sip.

Rip stifles a sigh. "How much do you drink on these outings?"

"When I'm with Len? A couple drinks, tops."

"Then it could be time distortion causing –"

"I drink a lot _before_ I go," Mick interrupts. "Saves a lot of money that way."

When Mick reaches for one of the gun cases, Sara pins him with a look. "You know I don't like you drinking in here."

"I haven't had that much," he protests, then flashes a grin at their captain. "This hour, anyways."

Sara isn't backing down. "It can impair your judgement."

Mick doesn't tell her that he thinks their judgement is impaired enough lately that alcohol might actually _help_ things. "Len and I always liked to have a few before…going out on the town."

"Uh huh. And how many times did you almost burn or freeze each other out there?"

Mick thinks about that. "You know, kind of a lot."

She throws her hands up in a _What did you expect?_ gesture and he shrugs, then takes another sip from his flask.

Rip makes a mental note to talk about weapons safety the next time the whole team is in one room. "Can we get back on track, here?" he asks Mick. "You've visited him six times in less than three months, and twice now you've brought along Ms. Lance – which I'm sure I don't need to point out is against the rule I made to try and limit any problems that might arise from this. There could be serious consequences to what you're doing."

"I see we've moved back to the timeline excuse." Sara carefully puts the katana back in its case, closes it, and then rests her arms on top. "So what are these consequences?"

Rip hesitates, clearly unsure. "I'm not in the best position to say since Mr. Snart –" he cuts himself off, starts again, "– since the loss of the Oculus. It's not like there are numerous cases we can look at with people repeatedly visiting the same time to see what effects it had on them and the timeline. If anyone's ever done it, they had good reason to hide it from the Time Masters. So I can't tell you what the effects might be, but I do know that it's not natural for time to be…manipulated this way."

"Nothing we do is natural," Mick points out. "Your entire _job_ as a Time Master was to watch the timeline and change whatever you deemed necessary. You'd think that at least one of you would have figured out things could go drastically wrong, yet you still did it every day."

"And look where it got all of you," Sara adds, bitterly.

Rip wants to pull his hair out in frustration. How is he supposed to argue his position (which he knows is right) when they can easily use his past against him? Everything they're saying is true and he has no defense for it – which means it's all too easy for his concerns to fall on deaf ears.

He tries another tactic. "Gideon has expressed some concern that there might be ramifications which we can't yet see."

"Without access to a concrete timeline," Mick says, "how can Gideon claim there 'might' be ramifications?"

Rip decides it's better if the AI explains. "Gideon?"

"I have sensed unclassifiable temporal anomalies in 2013," she informs them. "Unfortunately, I cannot determine their exact cause or their point of origin."

"Gee," Rip says sarcastically, "could it be thanks to the two people who keep going to relive one night that year?"

"I cannot say for certain," Gideon tells him, and Rip _really_ wishes he'd taught her how to lie when it was for the greater good.

"Gideon, I thought this was supposed to be a stable point in time," Sara protests, feeling the beginnings of denial.

"As far as I can tell, it is," Gideon says.

"Well which is it?" Sara demands. "Is it anomalous or is it stable?"

"If possible –" Gideon pauses, as if calculating probabilities, "– it's both at the same time."

"Oh yeah," Mick mutters. "That sounds fantastic. Definitely a place we want to keep visiting."

Sara knows she should be feeling the same kind of doubt that she hears in Mick's voice, that this should be making her seriously question the wisdom of keeping up their trips to 2013, but she's only thinking of how they can explain this in a way that won't jeopardize her ability to keep going.

She can't stop. She's not ready yet.

_And what if you're never ready?_

"Now do you see why I'm worried?" Rip begs.

"Alright, maybe," Mick allows. "But what are the odds that these issues in 2013 have been caused by us? I'm thinking there's no way to know for sure what's happening. If you could definitely say it was us, you would be outright banning us from going."

"Nothing's definitive," Rip agrees. "I'm only asking you to please be careful. If anything starts to feel off or…wrong, you have to let me and Gideon know."

"Will do," Mick says, in a way that implies he most likely won't.

Rip looks to Sara with a hint of pleading.

"Yes, whatever, I'll tell you," she says, exasperated. "Not that anything's going to go wrong. I mean, we're essentially reliving the same event each time we go. Even if we did somehow change something minor, our next visit would automatically fix it. Isn't that how it's supposed to work?"

Rip nods somewhat reluctantly. "Yes, that should be how it works.

" _Should be_ ," Mick mutters, sounding so much like his missing partner (gone, Sara reminds herself, _gone_ ) that she has to look away. "Someone tell me the last time something around here worked like it should."

Rip seizes the opportunity. "All the more reason to consider stopping your visits. Or at least cut back on them."

"I'll think about it," Mick says, and Sara detects a hint of sincerity that makes her actually believe him.

Once the captain leaves the room, Sara sends Mick a questioning look.

Instead of saying anything, he offers her his flask and she accepts, taking a long sip. When she tries to give it back, he waves her off. "Keep it. I have plenty more."

Of course he does. "You're really thinking of stopping?"

"I told you that this wasn't a good idea weeks ago. Maybe it's time we started paying attention to that instead of ignoring it."

"Maybe," she says, without any conviction.

She's already planning the next time they can visit 2013.

**XXXXXX**

It's two weeks later that Mick makes his seventh trip (and it's Sara's third). They've held off longer than usual solely because of Rip's troublesome lecture. It seems they can't stay away for long, though.

Everything's the same. Mick and Len's conversation. Sara drinking alone at the bar. The events that occur around them.

Her three trips, coupled with Mick's details of prior ones she didn't go on, have caused Sara to start memorizing Leonard's actions that particular night in 2013. She's also able to anticipate the people around them – the bartender, the waitstaff, the dancers, even the other patrons.

Mick asks Len to meet at 8 and he's late. He's _always_ late. Mick's told her that he never shows up before 8:10 and he's come as late as 8:19, which is right around the time Len is about to write him off and leave.

At 8:14, a dancer in the corner shoves away a too-friendly guest and when he won't back off, bouncers intervene to throw him out. At 8:16, encouraging cheers break out from a group of men across the room celebrating a bachelor party after they buy a lap dance for a reluctant friend. At 8:18, the bartender gets a text that annoys him, causing him to throw his phone down too harshly and then wince when it bounces off the shelf underneath the bar.

Mick leaves the building with the weight of the world on his shoulders. Leonard watches him go and then stares at his drink as if it will give him the answers he's looking for.

Every.

Single.

Time.

Sara repeats the pattern of her past self, thinking that might help time adjust or…something. She has no idea how it works. She nurses the last of her drink, hoping the whiskey will ease the tension in her shoulders enough that her headache goes away (it annoys her; she hadn't had one on either of her previous visits). She pulls out some money, laying it on the bar, when she feels someone approach on her left.

That'd odd because she's done this twice before and no one has –

"I'd offer to buy you a drink, but looks like you've already got it covered," a familiar voice drawls smoothly.

She feels the shock run through her, just like when their gaze had met during the last visit, but this is ten times stronger since they're not locking eyes across the room – this time Leonard Snart is standing right next to her at the bar.

"I do have it covered, thanks," she says, hearing her words shake in a way they never would if this were _any_ encounter, at _any_ bar, with _any_ person in the world…aside from him.

"Shame," he murmurs, and if his tone isn't quite suggestive, it's definitely on its way there. "I could buy the next one, if you're so inclined?"

"No, sorry," she forces the words from her throat which has gone dry. "I have to get going."

"Alright," he says easily, "maybe next time."

It's on the tip of her tongue to decline, to say she won't be back this way any time soon, except she knows she will. Would it hurt so much to pretend, if only for a moment, that this-Leonard and the Sara-she's-pretending-to-be might have a future together? After all, they _do_ , just not the way he thinks. "Sure," she replies, with a genuine smile. "Next time."

There _will_ be a next time, she swears silently. Even if that next time is simply this time…relived.

"It's a date," he says, holding out his hand to shake on it, like a promise.

She momentarily freezes, looking from his hand to his face. She considers leaving without acknowledging his gesture, but she can't resist the offer to touch him again. (It's been so long, _so_ long…three months? Four? No matter the actual length, it's interminable when she considers that _one day_ has been too long for her since…it happened.)

She reaches out to grasp his hand and sucks in a breath when her skin touches his. She's surprised at the warmth of him (what did she expect? For him to be cold? Like _death_? Well…maybe). Memories come flooding back against her will – sly comments and dangerous missions and playing games and drinking shots and _not wanting to say goodbye and_ – she realizes too late that he's opened his hand to let go and she's still holding on much too tightly.

She forces her fingers to relax, releasing him, despite how incredibly difficult it is. He doesn't seem bothered or even confused. He's merely watching her with a curiosity that, in her mind, she has inextricably linked with Leonard Snart – no matter where or when he exists. Like there's something here he has to figure out and he's damn well going to do it no matter what anyone says.

(She has this strangely eerie thought that out of anyone in the world, he might be the one to rewrite the laws of time itself in his effort to figure things out.)

 _Is this treading lightly, Sara?_ her inner voice mocks. _Is this being careful?_

She gives him one last smile and leaves the club.

There's nothing to it, she tells herself, as she walks back to the jump ship. So what if his actions didn't follow the original events of that day? She'd probably unintentionally made some small movement or gesture that caught his notice; most likely it will never happen again.

He'd seen an attractive blonde at the bar and gone over to take a chance. Nothing out of the ordinary for the 2013 Leonard Snart.

Nothing unusual at all.

**XXXXXX**

"You're late," Mick says when she gets back to the jump ship. There's no accusation in his tone, he's just stating a fact.

"What of it?" she snaps defensively, and inwardly winces. If he wasn't curious before, he will be now.

Although he watches her with a little too much curiosity, he shrugs it off and they spend the trip back to the Waverider in silence. She worries the entire way about what they might be returning to. What if her meeting with Leonard has caused something to change? What if the team is different? Or something minor back home has changed that she won't find out about until they return when all this is over?

The moment they're back, she can't escape Mick's company fast enough. She practically sprints to her bedroom to privately ask Gideon if anything has changed the timeline as a result of her encounter with Len.

"Nothing has changed," Gideon informs her, and Sara's so relieved that her legs no longer support her and she slides down against the wall behind her. She hasn't endangered anyone, she hasn't unintentionally caused a ripple effect that has the potential of erasing them from existence.

She hasn't risked anyone's lives.

 _Or have you?_ _Just because nothing came from it doesn't mean that what you did wasn't reckless._

"It wasn't my fault," she says, to no one. "He came over to me! What was I supposed to do? Ignore him? That would have made him more suspicious and could have made things much worse if he started trying to track me down or figure out who I am. I did the only thing I could."

_And why were you there in the first place, running the risk that he could interact with you and change things?_

"It's fine to be there," she reasons. "It's fine to visit him, Gideon said that spot in 2013 was stable."

 _And then both she and Rip told you it might_ not _be, that there are anomalies happening that they can't explain. You still went back_.

"Shut up!" she yells, getting to her feet and slamming her palm against the wall. "Gideon, is that spot in 2013 still safe to visit?"

"As far as I can tell, Ms. Lance."

"What about the things you and Rip told us? About possible anomalies?"

"As with all things relating to time travel, there is never 100% certainty about anything we may do. There are always risks."

"And you can't say for certain if what Mick and I are doing is increasing those risks?"

"No, I cannot," Gideon says, which isn't that reassuring. "Ms. Lance, I'm detecting elevated levels of irritability, anger, and stress in your tone. May I recommend that you undergo a physical examination?"

"You can recommend all you want, but I'm not doing it. I'm fine, Gideon. And please keep this conversation private. You can do that, right?"

"As long as our discussions do not place anyone in direct harm, I can keep them private."

"Then do that."

She waits for confirmation from Gideon and it makes her feel slightly better, but she knows that nothing's foolproof. Gideon will probably still tell Rip any (and all) of this if he specifically asks the right questions about her visits. She also figures that Gideon could be instructed to lie to her if Rip really wanted.

She'd debated the whole flight back if she should tell Mick about the meeting, or Rip, or Ray, but in the end she'd decided against it. She knows that if she expresses a real concern that something might have changed as a direct result of her actions, they could force her to stop visiting. She can't risk it.

Despite Gideon's reassurances, she still spends the next week dealing with a vague, hovering sense of dread. Gideon's words hold true, though. Time doesn't collapse on itself and their current timeline doesn't blink out of existence.

Nothing changes, either. Everyone on the team is the same as she remembers, news events from back home are the same, _she's_ still the same.

With each day that passes, she relaxes a little more. _Nothing has changed_ , she repeats to herself, every time she feels anxiety building again.

It's only at night, when she's alone with her thoughts, that a persistent worry creeps along the edges of her mind.

"Nothing has changed," she whispers, for the dozenth time, as she lies alone in the darkness.

 _But_ w _ould you know if it did_?

**XXXXXX**

Although it takes Sara a few weeks to feel confident enough to return to 2013, she eventually goes back. By this point, there's not much that could keep her away.

There are one, two, three more visits.

Leonard always comes over to the bar now, earlier each time – she's checked. What he says varies slightly each time, too. There's always some version of an offer to buy her a drink, followed by some version of her declining and promising to let him do it next time. Then they shake on it and she ignores the electricity between them.

Every time, she walks away; every time, it gets harder to do so.

She knows the minor discrepancies probably aren't a good thing. If anything, they should be the flashing warning signs that she needs to stop going.

The problem is that knowing she can talk to him, interact with him, touch him – it only makes her want to visit more.

She takes a page from Mick's book and tries to act as responsibly as she can, tries to keep their interactions as similar as possible to the first time. Ten, fifteen seconds, tops. She feels staying much longer than that (or saying more to him than the few sentences they exchange) is taking too much of a risk.

She keeps checking with Gideon and these short encounters aren't affecting the timeline.

Mick never sees the two of them together because he always leaves beforehand and she's kept with her original plan not to tell anyone. What they don't know can't hurt them, right? At least, she certainly hopes that's the case.

Then one day, Mick announces he's not going to 2013 anymore and he has the actual _gall_ to suggest that she stop going, too.

"I'll do whatever I damn well want," she informs him when he confronts her. She feels strangely dizzy, disoriented, and she blames it on her indignation and her eagerness to have this fight that she's been spoiling for since…she can't remember when.

"You think it's helping you, right? And it does, at first, but it's going to turn, Sara. I don't know when, but it will, mark my words." The worst part is how sure he sounds, speaking with the calm certainty of someone who has lived through the very thing he's warning her against. For some reason, she can't write him off as easily as she does their captain.

It's that very reason – not being able to write him off – that enrages her. It's the threat of losing any contact with Leonard ( _again,_ she can't do this _again_ ) that causes her to lash out at him since he's her nearest target.

"You don't get to say what's good for me," she sneers. "Did you see me lecturing you on what I thought you should do with your life? I realized months ago that visiting Leonard was hurting you and did I order you to stop? No, I didn't. I accepted it when you told me you were fine because I knew you had to work through your issues on your own. And before you try to use that against me, we are _not_ the same person. Just because visiting Leonard didn't work for you doesn't mean that it won't work for me."

"I know and I understand how you feel," he replies, still frustratingly calm. "I've come to realize this isn't the same Leonard that we knew, he'll _never_ be the same one who –" he stops, still can't bring himself to say that _their_ Leonard has died. "At least, it's not him _yet._ I fell into the trap of thinking that one of these times, he might be. I don't want you to fall into it, too."

"There _is_ no trap," she insists. "I know he's not the same and I don't care. It's just one moment in time, a moment that we keep rewriting. If it gives me peace or solace why can't you people just _let me have that!_ " She knows she's yelling by the end. Rip and Ray have entered the room, alarmed by the fight, and they stand in the doorway watching her and Mick.

She won't let Rip get away with pretending like he has nothing to do with this and whips around to face him.

"You," she snaps, pointing at their captain, " _you_ have no basis on which to judge me. You're the one who wouldn't let me save my sister, yet you had no problem letting us jaunt all around the timeline and the freaking universe to try and save your family. Because consequences be damned when it was _your_ loved ones, right? But to hell with my sister – to hell with Ray's fiancée –" She feels more than hears Ray's quiet gasp at her words.

"Sara…" Ray says, voice low, and she ignores him. She's too focused on her rage and only directs it at one man in the room.

"And to hell with Leonard, right? Despite the fact that he gave his own life to save all of us." Her voice breaks at the end and she realizes that she's never talked about his sacrifice out loud before.

Rip is looking grimmer than she's ever seen him, and that's saying something. "Sara, this isn't like you. I have to agree with Mick that I don't think you should go back to 2013."

"No," she says, and it comes out brittle, "you're not sorry. We all know you're not, so don't pretend. I mean, what have you been _doing_ this whole time? Do you even care that –"

"It's not that I don't want to fix things, it's that I don't know _how_!" he yells in a rare outburst that has her taking a step back. He makes a conscious effort to control his temper. "Don't you think that I've tried? I have spent days, weeks, _months_ going over every scrap of material I can find on time travel, everything I can find written by the Time Masters over decades, consulting with Gideon, weighing possible options – I don't know what to do, Sara. If there's an answer…I can't find it."

His clear desperation takes the fight out of her and she shuts her eyes for a moment. When Ray puts his hand on her shoulder, she doesn't shake him off like she normally would. She's been so lost in her own grief that she's forgotten – she's somehow missed...that she's not the only one suffering.

"I'm sorry." For the first time, in a long time, she's ashamed.

"I'm sorry, too," Rip replies, quietly, "but nothing I've said is going to be enough to make you stop, is it?"

Her face is answer enough.

"It's harming you," he tries, one last ditch effort. "Gideon's told me your vital signs are all over the place. This frequent jumping to the same spot is damaging you in ways that we might not fully recognize until it's too late."

"I think the reason is a lot more complex than a few trips to 2013. The loss of my sister and Len, the constant pressure we're under, not to mention jumping to a dozen different times in the past few months...I can't be the only one of us that's shown heightened levels of stress."

"Sara –"

"No," she repeats, "show me your proof that it's 2013 that's hurting me and I'll willingly give up going back to see him without a second thought." She waits a minute, knowing it's something Rip can't prove. "It's just as likely that my problems are from everything else we have going on and not this one small part of my life. Besides, things have been so much better around here. _I've_ gotten better. Even you have to admit that."

She's telling the truth. He's seen it. Maybe it's taking a slight physical toll, but he's seen the other ways the trips have helped her. To put it simply, she's happy again, and he doesn't want to be the person who takes that away from her.

"Fine," he acknowledges, with utmost reluctance, "I can't say for sure that the 2013 trips are the cause of your recent issues, but I have to strongly warn you against –"

"Save yourself another speech," she interrupts. "You're not going to convince me to stop."

He has to put his foot down somewhere. "Swear to me that you'll at least consider slowing down your visits. You can't keep this up forever, we all know that. Even you must know that."

Yes, she _does_ know that, and it's one of the most agonizing things about going there. Wondering if it might be her last trip, the last time she ever sees him, the last time she can –

"I'll try," she says, and although it's not a promise, it's as close to one as she's ever going to get.

**XXXXXX**

It's her seventh trip and the first one without Mick.

When his partner never arrives, Leonard looks equal parts irritated and concerned.

 _He loves you_ , she wants to tell him. _I hope you always knew that, no matter what year it was._

She's almost surprised when Leonard approaches her at the bar. She's been wondering if he wouldn't come over this time since the major event of the night – his talk with Mick – hasn't occurred.

"Hey," he says, taking a seat next to her, and the word carries more weight than she's ever heard from him on one of these visits.

"Hey yourself," she smiles, meeting his eyes – the very same eyes she's been missing at home for months – and feels the now familiar spark that passes between them. (It doesn't matter _when_ they are, she's coming to accept that he will always just be _Leonard_ to her.)

"Nice evening, huh?"

"I suppose it is," she replies. His attempt at small talk is new and she recognizes his tone, the one that means he's worried, but he's going to cover it up by hitting on a girl at the bar.

She'd left Mick at home suffering, and Rip's warnings ring in her ears, and Leonard's right here with her, and all she can think is _How many more visits are we going to get?_

He gestures to her empty glass. "Can I buy you another drink?"

 _Tread lightly. Be careful. Say no and thanks and maybe next time_.

"Yes," she says. "You can."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for the responses, it encourages me to keep going! 
> 
> Special thanks to Tavyn, whose wonderful feedback (and request for "more interaction") led to this being almost twice as long as the original draft.

 

What are you doing, Sara?

_What are you doing?_

She knows she might have made one of the worst possible choices that she can in regards to this situation so far (and she has quite the running list, doesn't she?).

She's becoming an expert at explaining away her questionable decisions, though. This time is no different, because despite the risks involved, she thinks she's pretty much figured out how to keep things as contained as possible.

Her reasoning is this: it takes a certain amount of time for a new timeline to set. Thus, it stands to reason that she can have tonight with him – just like Mick had managed to lengthen his own visits with Leonard – and then she'll go back to the jump ship and check the timeline. If Gideon informs her that things are changing in a disastrous way, she'll jump back to earlier tonight instead of 2016, and she'll erase everything.

That is…she'll stay away from him completely. She'll make sure their eyes never even meet.

It's always been her last resort, the final way to undo everything she and Mick (might) have done, and as such the very thought chills her to the bone. She doesn't want to – not yet –

But she will if she has to.

And that means she's going to allow herself to make the most of tonight that she can.

"Leonard," he introduces himself, and it's the first time in 2013 that he's told her his name. He doesn't offer his hand this time either, merely waits for her to respond in kind.

"Sara." She'd had a vague notion about giving a fake name, but when it comes down to it, she's compelled to tell him her real one. She can't take a night of him calling her anything else – especially not if this is their last time together.

At least he'll know her as _Sara_ even if that will never mean to him what it does to her.

She tamps down on the agony of that thought and takes the opportunity to watch as he speaks animatedly with the bartender. That had always amazed her, how easily he charmed people wherever he went despite his anti-social tendencies. (He's possibly the most social anti-social man she's ever met.)

When the bartender slides over her new drink, Leonard picks it up and tips his head toward the table he'd come from. She follows, realizing he wants to be able to see the main door from his vantage point. Not only from habit, but probably also some lingering thought that Mick might still show up, even if he's excessively late.

There are three stools at the high-top table. She drapes her coat over the empty one nearest the railing before taking the seat across from Len (the one Mick always takes). She's feeling a sudden, inexplicable onset of nerves. How can she talk to him? What can she possibly _say_?

He solves that problem for her by asking, "What's a girl like you doing in a place like this?"

"That's your line?" She's amused because it's so…politely mundane. "I have to admit that I expected much more."

That gets his attention. "I'm already not meeting your approval? I guess that means we've skipped from 'just met' to the 'established relationship' stage."

She laughs, almost inhaling her drink, but his words also cause a sharp spike of pain when she thinks of their many what-might-have-been's. "I like to be entertained...if you're up for the challenge."

"Expect me to do all the work, huh?" He eyes her, intrigued. "I thought you might be high-maintenance."

She's both surprised and not by his teasing, semi-insult. She gets the feeling that she's already knocked him off-balance. She doesn't feel bad about it, either, since he'd loved to do it to her – turnabout's fair play after all. (Well, maybe not-so-fair considering he doesn't know any of that, but still.)

She acts like she's offended. "I didn't know talking to me was work!"

"It's not," he admits, allowing a smile to cross his face. "So far."

"And even if I were high-maintenance – which I'm not – I'd have you know that I'm worth it."

" _That_ you're going to have to prove."

"How?"

"Sure you want to ask me such an open-ended question?" he warns playfully, eyes calculating in a way she hasn't seen on any of these 2013 visits where she always turns him down for a drink. It's not quite the same as the Leonard she knew, but it's close enough to convince her that this – him – was worth taking the risk.

"I'm pretty sure I can handle whatever suggestion you throw at me."

"Why don't you go up on stage, then?" He gestures to the nearest stage (there are several scattered around the club) where a gorgeous brunette is spinning around on a pole. "Think you're as good as Nikki?"

Nikki must be the dancer currently up there. "Wait, you want me to _dance_?" She's pretty sure he only said it to test her and she can't decide whether to call him on it. "I don't work here."

His gaze lingers on her in a hauntingly familiar way. "I'm sure you'd fit right in. I'm guessing you've got some…skills."

Oh yeah. It's a test, one he fully expects her to fail by backing down, laughing him off, or making excuses. She stands up determinedly, tosses back the rest of her drink (oh, mistake – it burns more than the higher-end liquors she'd used to), and stares him down. He's slightly shocked and she relishes it for a few seconds before turning and heading in Nikki's direction. She ignores Leonard calling from behind her that he was only kidding and she better not get them kicked out.

Nikki is finishing up her set and Sara signals for her to come closer, not wanting to get up on stage and risk being tackled by anyone from security. When the girl leans down, curious, Sara launches into her explanation. "Hey! My friend over there –" she points out Leonard who slumps down further on his stool, "– doesn't think I have what it takes to get up on stage. Can I have a minute or two to prove him wrong?"

The dark-haired dancer squints to see past Sara in the dim lighting of the club. "Is that Len?"

Sara stifles a sigh – of freaking _course_ Nikki knows him. Everyone in this place probably knows him if he really is a regular. He's…memorable that way. "Yes, it is."

"Hell yeah, girl, you have my full support to prove him wrong. I'm always up for wiping that smirk off his face. It's a rare occasion any of us can manage it. Us girls gotta stick together, right?"

"Um, right," Sara agrees, as the girl offers her hand and pulls her up on stage. The lights are now in her eyes and she shields them as she starts wondering exactly what the hell kind of plan she's come up with. It had seemed like a good idea thirty seconds ago and now…everyone in this section of the club is watching her in expectation. Including Leonard. No way can she back down now.

"Hi everyone, my show's almost over," Nikki begins, as the men and women around her stage start protesting and pleading with her to stay, "but I have a special treat to end our night together. This is…"

"Sara," she fills in, waving at the crowd.

"Right, my friend Sara. Now, her _date_ –" Nikki sends her an evil smile as Sara inwardly groans, "– doesn't think she has what it takes to try dancing tonight. I'm sure you'll agree that her choosing to come up here and prove him wrong is answer enough that he's messing with the wrong woman, right _Leonard_?" As Nikki taunts him, a bright light turns on over Len's table. Sara can see now that he's scowling deeply – whether from the sudden spotlight, being called out in public, or Sara defying his expectations, she has no idea. It's probably a mixture of all three.

Sara's torn between laughing and cringing. She thought she'd be able to dance for a minute and prove him wrong, but it's turning into an actual _scene_. She can vividly picture Rip or Mick's reaction to this, probably lots of screaming about changing things, and she can't even bring herself to care because this is the most fun she's had since…before.

"I haven't been proven wrong _yet_ ," Leonard announces, once he realizes Nikki isn't going to continue without an answer from him. "And whoever's controlling the lights better turn this one off before they have an unfortunate accident."

The light instantly switches off again and the focus is suddenly back on Sara. She glances down at her outfit, a simple red shirt and black pants – not exactly pole dancing material, but she supposes it's better than the jeans she'd almost worn tonight. Maybe she'll wear something sexier next – _no, Sara, nothing is guaranteed so don't tempt fate more than you already have._

"Without further ado," Nikki declares loudly, in order to be heard over the electronic dance song that starts playing, "here's Sara!"

Oh right, she actually has to _dance_ now. Sara's good at dancing, but on a pole? She doesn't have much to go on except a few scenes from movies, so she does the only thing she can – she cheats. There are a half dozen other dancers on various stages around the room and she picks the one with the easiest line of sight where a girl's dancing in what looks like a police uniform (there's too little of it left for Sara to be 100% certain). No matter, she copies every move the girl makes, except for the ones that she's pretty sure would break her spine if she slipped and fell. Seriously, how does the other girl _bend_ that way without snapping a few ligaments? Sara's work-out regimen causes her to stay pretty limber, but she feels out of her element when she sees how easily the other girl twists around with expert ease while pretty much folding herself in half.

To Sara's delight, the crowd seems to think she has some praiseworthy skills, even if she suspects they're cutting her a lot of slack for being an amateur. They clap, whistle, and cheer every time she does any type of move that looks remotely like a professional dancer. The pole actually spins on its own, which is an enormous help, and she has enough strength to pull off the moves that basically require holding herself in various positions while letting the pole do most of the work by spinning her around. It's more exhausting than she expected, though – she almost loses her grip three times, and when the song ends a few minutes later, her legs and arms shake in different ways than she's used to feeling after sparring. She's grateful that she's in shape, sure that otherwise she'd probably want to collapse right on stage – and that would certainly undermine the point she's trying to make.

"I'm impressed," Nikki whispers to her, before turning to address the crowd. "Sara, everyone! Let her know you want her to come back!"

In addition to the encouraging shouts from the crowd, people start waving money at her and Sara holds her hands up, backing away. "No, please, thank you very much, but any money should go to the wonderful Nikki." She holds her hand out to direct their attention away from her. "She was gracious enough to let me use her time and all I wanted to do was prove my friend wrong. But I really appreciate the support, thank you!"

She steps down from the stage, swerving around a few people trying to get her attention, and goes back to the table where Leonard's watching her with (what she thinks is) something close to amazement.

She grabs her glass, remembers she finished it, and takes his bottle instead to take a sip. (Wow, whatever he's drinking is terrible.) "Well? The crowd liked me. Sure, they've been drinking all night, but…I'll take it."

He's quiet for a few moments, though his eyes are sparkling at her in a way they weren't before. "I don't think I have the words."

"I'll take that as a compliment," she says, a little out of breath. Who knew three minutes of dancing could feel that intense? It requires insane upper body strength and she has a newfound appreciation for what those girls go through, night in and night out.

"It was definitely a compliment," he informs her. "I suppose you're right. You're definitely worth getting to know."

"Because I can dance?" she asks. She looks around for Lily, the regular waitress who's always working this night in 2013, but doesn't see her.

"No, that's not why."

She glances back at him, unsure what he's getting at.

"I know very few women who would do what you just did."

"I guess you don't know the right women, then."

He seems to be thinking about it. "I guess I don't."

"Hey, I had to prove you wrong."

"And you did it ever so lithely," he says, appreciatively, then pushes a glass of water closer to her. "I got that for you when you joined Nikki on stage. I know it can be tiring."

She gratefully takes it, passing his own drink back to him before asking, "Do a lot of exotic dancing, Leonard?"

"I might in my spare time."

"That I'd pay to see."

"Don't be ridiculous," he scoffs. "I wouldn't make _you_ pay."

She laughs outright and then takes a moment to give silent thanks to whatever (or whoever) it was in the universe that has allowed her this night with him. Yes, her past visits have helped a lot, too, but none have felt like this. There's nothing that can heal her as much as just talking to him, _being_ with him.

She doesn't want to think about what this will mean for her when she returns home…where he isn't.

She prays this newfound feeling lasts, but she's already having doubts…because she feels like she doesn't want to leave. Like she'll _never_ want to leave. She even thinks about what might happen to the two of them if she chooses to remain in 2013. How long would they have before time caved in on them, ending _everything_ as punishment for her own selfishness?

She can't think about that. All she can do is enjoy every second she has with him. "So does everyone who works here know you?"

"A lot of them know my name and what I like to drink, but not much more than that. They've certainly gotten more annoying lately – the major pitfall of being a regular anywhere," he sighs, as if it's a burden. "I've been thinking of changing places, actually. Haven't gotten around to it yet."

The thought seems to make him melancholy again, and he stares at the door some distance behind Sara, giving her an opening for another topic.

"What's wrong?" She wonders how much he'll tell her about Mick. (How close were they back then – or now – or whatever?).

"My friend stood me up."

Sara feels a bit guilty at his words. She'd had to twist Mick's arm (literally) to ensure that he didn't try to overwrite this night in 2013 by leaving Leonard a different message – or by not leaving him one at all. She'd had no way of knowing where else Len might be tonight, and even if she _had_ managed to track him down, it isn't like he'd just let her into his…lair. Or wherever he spends his time lurking.

She knew Mick hadn't approved; he'd been making that clear for days with the way he acted around her. However, he'd agreed that he wouldn't try to force her to stop going and so far he's held to that promise.

Leonard checks his phone, glaring at it like its personally offended him, and Sara assumes that he doesn't see the message he wants to see.

"Sorry about your friend," she offers, pretending she's interested in looking over at the bar so he won't see any possible traces of guilt on her face – he'd somehow pick up on it. She _knows_ him.

"It's not exactly a rare occurrence. Though it's not a frequent one, either."

As she listens to him, it occurs to her that she's missed the way he talks. Sort of cryptic. Definitely sarcastic. And at this moment, entirely dismissive of an issue that's obviously bothering him. (Really, how can she miss a _manner of speaking_? It's times like these that she realizes exactly how far gone she is – _was_.) "If it's not rare or frequent, wouldn't that just make it…normal?"

He assesses her over the top of his drink, and though he's not smiling, his eyes are. "In a way, yes. His message was strange, though. I've been thinking about it since I got it."

She switches to carefully studying the beveled edges of her glass. "What was strange about it?"

"It's not typical for him to ask to meet me. I'm usually the one who reaches out since I'm the one who plans things in our…" he pauses, like he's giving too much information, "…business ventures. It didn't sound like him, either. The tone was off."

Yeah, she'd been able to tell he was suspicious. She knew Mick had picked up on it as well (after enough visits) and she wonders if that was partly what made him stop coming to 2013.

"You think he's in trouble?"

He considers her suggestion before shaking his head. "Nah, he's pretty good at taking care of himself."

Which one of them is he trying to convince, here?

"But you said he's stood you up before?"

"Well, the last time this happened, he'd been arrested for –" he blinks at her, as if to remind himself he's talking to a woman he just met at the bar, "– a misunderstanding. Cops had it out for him, you know the deal."

"Of course," she says, easily. He's always been wary of the police, that's nothing new.

"It's most likely one of three things," he continues. "He's passed out drunk, he's with a woman, or he…saw an opportunity and took it."

"Maybe it's all three?"

"Then he's in for a hell of a night that I'll be hearing about soon. Depending on how much he remembers."

"Sounds like a fantastic time to me," she says, wistfully. She can't remember the last time she'd gone out and just _had fun_. After him, and Laurel, it had seemed wrong to go out and…enjoy life. How could she enjoy anything when they were gone?

 _But you're enjoying tonight, aren't you? What does that say about you? They don't even_ exist _in your present time and yet here you are, frolicking about in the past, refusing to let go, potentially changing things, maybe ruining_ –

She grips her glass tighter and screams at her mind to stop.

Leonard's considering the possible implications of what she'd said about having a fantastic time with another woman. "I apologize if I'm not your type. I can leave you alone if you're looking for –"

"No," she hastily interrupts, when he shifts as if he's going to get up and leave. "I don't have a type. For me it's only ever about the right person, that's it."

And there will never be a way to tell him that she'd realized, months ago, that he'd been the one who was right. She has a not-so-well hidden fear that _no one else_ will ever be right again.

"The right person?" he repeats her words. "Okay, I'm not looking for lifetime commitment here. I know I can have a magnetic effect on people, but –"

"What, you think I can't resist you?" She manages to sound insulted, even though it's eerie the way he seems to read her thoughts. "I can prove that's not the case, I'll just head back to the bar." After what she'd just done by going up on stage, she's counting on him missing the bluff – after all, he has no idea how important he is to her. In his eyes, he's just another man in a bar she could easily walk away from because another one will always come along.

"Wait." He reaches over to touch her wrist and when she looks at where their skin meets, he pulls away. "I was kidding. I have a tendency to do that."

It takes extreme willpower to not give herself away. "You do?"

"I'm never too serious. It's one of the things people love about me. Or hate about me, as the case may be."

"How could anyone hate you?" It's meant to be her own attempt at a joke, except it's laced with too much meaning to pass as one.

"That's what I always say!" he agrees. "And you're making quite the case for me liking _you_." He tips his bottle at her in thanks and she supposes she should be grateful he's chosen to take her unintended moment of seriousness as a compliment – at least it doesn't lead to any uncomfortable tangents.

"You from around here?" she asks, steering the conversation away from her mistake.

"I'm sort of from everywhere," he says, and she can tell he deliberately chose the answer to not give much away.

 _I already know so much about you_ , she wants to tell him. _You don't have to hide from me._

"I'm from Star City," she returns, and it's like she can hear herself saying the words, but someone else is speaking them. She barely manages to stop her wince, since any reaction will clue him in to her second mistake in as many minutes. Not only has she told him the truth, which she'd never intended to do, but she's given him the _wrong name_.

She hasn't even spent an hour with him and she's already getting turned around. Is this her own emotional state playing with her, or is it the timeline itself?

Either way, it's not a great sign. ( _Please. You've been ignoring every warning sign thus far, why would you pretend as if you're going to start paying attention to them now?_ )

"I've never heard of Star City," he's telling her. "And I've heard of most places. There's a Starling City nearby."

"Yeah, I know. Weird coincidence."

"Hmm, yeah."

"Star City is some distance from here. Pretty far away, actually." If you count time as distance, that is.

"That so?"

She feigns irritation at his obvious second guessing of her story. "You think I'd make up a fake place to be from?"

"I don't know _what_ you'd do."

No, he doesn't, does he? She has the unfair advantage now, which is paradoxical considering that back on the Waverider, she'd always felt like he could expertly read her, sometimes knowing what she'd do even before she did.

Rather than feeling trapped, or suffocated, she'd actually grown to like it. Having someone who knew her in that way…it wasn't common in her life before and it had been strangely comforting – even in the beginning when he mostly irritated her and she wasn't sure what to make of him.

"You're visiting Central City from a place 'far away'," he's mocking her, "and you chose this place to come tonight? Really?"

 _No more details, keep it as vague as possible_. "I was supposed to meet friends. They canceled last minute and I figured why not stay for a drink or two?"

"Your friends wanted to meet _here_ ," he says, and it's not a question. He makes a show of looking around the room, as if to remind himself how sketchy the club really is (and Sara guesses that's one of the reasons he likes it so much). "Some interesting friends you've got."

Oh, he doesn't know the half of it.

She wonders what he'd say if she told him that not only is his missing partner one of her friends now, but _so is_ _he_. Or at least, so _was_ he. Can she still count him as a friend if he's not back home anymore? Because he's here with her right now and she thinks it should count. (She tries to always think of him in the present tense.)

She shakes the thoughts away. "That's some audacity to judge my friends when you were meeting your own friend here and most of the staff seems to be on a first name basis with you."

"Hey, this is my kind of place," he argues, leaning back and gesturing around them as he talks. "Fully stocked bar that never runs out of liquor, scores of beautiful women –" A drunk man cuts off his list by stumbling and falling into their table. Len half-rises, ready for a fight, until he realizes it was an accident and sits back down. "I mean, where else can you find this kind of ambiance?"

"Can't argue with that," she says wryly, watching the drunk guy stumble over to his girlfriend who's waving at him from across the room. It's 9:04 and Sara's seen that happen several times before when he's been talking to Mick. Leonard's first instinct is always that he might have to fight his way out of it. That isn't a _past_ -Leonard thing. It's (to her sadness) a Leonard thing, period. "This place definitely has a unique…feel."

"No one asks questions here," he adds, as another point in the club's favor.

"Why don't you like questions?"

"It's more that I don't like…misplaced curiosity."

"What's not to like about it?"

He narrows his eyes at her. "Are you deliberately phrasing your responses as questions?"

She leans in over the table. "Did _you_ just do the same thing?"

"Do you think you're funny?"

"Do you think I'm not?"

"Stop."

She pauses as if she might, and then asks innocently, "Why?"

He looks away, but she can tell he's doing it because he's trying not to smile.

_Oh, how I've missed this. You._

No, she doesn't want to get lost in grief, not when the night has been going so well.

"Perhaps you have a point," he says, refocusing her attention. "Curiosity can be fun, given the right circumstances."

Yeah, she's sure he could list off those circumstances if she so much as hinted at wanting to know. She doesn't take the bait. "You do realize that if you always act overly suspicious of everyone, people will start thinking you have something to hide."

"Everyone _does_ have something to hide. Care to prove me wrong?"

Ha, yeah right. "No arguments here."

Lily stops at their table and asks if they want another round. They both agree and the server's eyes linger on Leonard for a few extra moments before she moves on to the next table.

"And another ice water," Leonard calls after her.

It's far too easy to slip back into old habits. Patterns. "I take it you're hot in that thing?"

He pulls at the sleeve of his coat. "No, it's just…it can get drafty in here. People opening and closing the door all night."

"The door at the main entrance?" She turns and points behind her. "The one that's allllll the way across the club?"

He's flustered, probably not used to being called out on everything he says, especially not by a woman who is still more or less a stranger to him. "Who are you, the jacket police?"

She raises an eyebrow at his rejoinder.

"Wait," he's clearly ashamed of that comeback, "don't judge me too harshly. I can do better than that."

"Alright, go ahead." She waits and he says nothing. She taps her fingers, waits some more, and then motions for him to get on with it.

"This is too much pressure!"

"Aw, don't perform well under pressure?"

He levels her with an all-too-familiar glare. "You're overly concerned with my coat to the point that it's making me think you want to take it off me."

She slowly grins at him. "There it is. That's much snappier. I almost believed it to be a sincere offer."

"Oh, it is," he winks at her, but she can tell he's teasing. He might like her, but he still wouldn't trust her (or anyone) this quickly. If she did put a real offer out there, he'd likely come up with an excuse. If anything, her over-familiarity would only convince him that she had an angle (and she certainly doesn't need him thinking that when it's true).

Lily drops off their new drinks in record time and laughter at the bar has Sara glancing over as she picks up her glass. When she turns back to Leonard, her hand freezes mid-way to bringing the drink to her mouth because there are suddenly two of him at the table.

He's not only sitting across from her, he's sitting to her left, on the stool where she'd put her coat.

She's almost afraid to move. Afraid to turn her head and look at him (who?) directly. He can't be there, it's not real.

Is she suffering a mental break? She doesn't think so, no one is treating her strangely tonight, which means they think she's acting normally. Could she have been drugged? No, he wouldn't let that happen (and it's unsettling that being drugged would be a _comforting_ alternative considering the possibilities). It must be some kind of double vision, like Gideon and the others had warned her about.

 _But you've had double vision before and it's never the same person in two different places, it's always a mixture of the person together, the image blending into itself. It's not two distinctly separate_ –

"Sara," the (real?) Leonard across from her says sharply, and the instant he does, she blinks and the Leonard to her left is gone.

No, not gone, because that would imply he was there to _begin with_ and she knows he wasn't.

Leonard is alarmed – she can only imagine the expression on her face. "What is it?" He looks over his shoulder to see what might have caused such a reaction, but there's nothing out of the ordinary.

"I thought I saw…someone I know." She forces herself to calmly sip her drink and then set it down, as if everything is normal and fine.

He folds his arms on the table, moving in closer to keep their conversation private. "Are you on the run or something?"

She laughs, but there's no humor in it. "Or something." ( _On the run_ is the better description, by far.)

"You can tell me," he promises, then seems almost startled by what he's said. No doubt continuing to wonder why he keeps offering so much to a woman he only met tonight.

She wants to tell him everything. Every detail, from the moment she met him and joined the team, to his choice to give his life for them, to her subsequent insane idea to visit a past version of him. She'll cap the entire story off with: _There were two of you at the table just now, what are the odds that's not related to anything I'm doing?_

There's no hope for it, though. Even if she were determined to tell the story, she wouldn't have enough time (an all-too-common theme in their lives). Besides, it's not like he'd ever believe her. "Really, it's nothing. Forget it."

"Alright, I will," he says, but she can tell by the way he says it that he won't.

She casts a quick look at the stool to her left. It's still empty, her coat draped exactly as she left it, undisturbed. She has no idea if seeing two of him has to do with the timeline or (more likely) her own mental health. She hasn't exactly been that put-together lately. Maybe she'll take Gideon's advice about getting a full check-up when she returns to 2016, after all.

More than anything, the incident should be her cue to leave, but she wants to stay. So she changes the subject again, both to distract herself and to direct him away from any half-formed plans he might have to try and figure out what she's hiding.

"What is it that you do?" she asks, and yes, maybe it's a test because she's curious about the cover he might devise.

He's silent for some time, probably debating whether or not to call her out on the distraction technique. He finally answers, "Lots of things."

"That's real specific," she replies. It's a prompt for him to go on, but he doesn't. "That's it? This is where our conversation ends?"

It can't be her imagination that he suddenly seems more troubled than he's been all night. "What do you want to know?"

"Anything." _Everything._

"Why?" he insists.

"Isn't that what people do when they meet for the…first time? Ask questions about each other?"

He's still watching her, brow creasing in apparent thought, and then his face clears and he leans back, shaking his head as if he can't believe this has happened.

Sara simultaneously feels her heart drop and expand in hope – it looks like he's just figured out what's going on. Is it possible that he might somehow know, that some part of him might recognize…

"What?" she manages, hoping it doesn't come out too strangled.

"You're a cop."

She's so floored that all she can do is stare at him.

"I should have known you were undercover," he's saying to himself. "You're way too clean for a place like this."

"I'm too _clean_?"

"Your hair, your clothes, way too nice. You don't fit in here."

She thinks it might be the most hilarious compliment she's ever gotten. _Too_ _clean_. And the fact that he would ever think _she_ was law enforcement! The others are going to find it hilarious when she –

No, she can't tell them, can she? They have no idea she's doing anything on these trips other than watching him from afar. And if they did know… Her mirth evaporates. "My hair and clothes? That's what supposedly gives me away?" Her tone implies he's being ridiculous.

"I don't know, you're too…" he trails off, clearly frustrated. "I don't click with people, you understand? Not like this. Which means you must have done your research on me, known how to approach, what to do and say – there's no other reason for it."

It's painful when she realizes that he's trying to describe the way they _are_ with each other. That he's never felt that before – or at least not so much, so quickly – and since he doesn't understand it, he's come up with a theory to explain it away.

"Can't I just like you?" she asks, quietly. When he doesn't respond, she tries again, louder, "Can't two people just hit it off?"

He shakes his head grimly. "Not when one of them is me."

"I swear to you that I'm not a cop."

He obviously doesn't believe her and she watches in panic as he gets up to leave. She kicks her leg out at the last second (she has no idea what else to do) and he trips over it. When he catches himself on the table, she stands up to face him head on.

"I don't associate with the police." He raises his voice to add, "This is harassment!" No one is paying them any attention (to be fair, outbursts are pretty common in here). "I want everyone to recognize that my civil rights are being violated at this very –"

"Shut up!" she snaps, pushing him backwards in a move that takes him by surprise to the point that he falls back onto the stool and looks up at her in shock.

"Did you just push me? Police brutality!" He deliberately scans the area near them for a sympathetic witness. "You all saw it happen, don't pretend otherwise." Of the ten or so people within earshot (and who probably _had_ seen the interaction), not one of them glances their way.

"I'm not –" she bites off her next words and retakes her own seat. "You gave me no other choice."

"Look, sweetheart, normally I'm always in the mood for some roughhousing – even from the police and _especially_ if they look like you – but tonight I'm going to have to pass."

A bouncer ambles over to their table, looking at them menacingly before turning to Sara. "Is he bothering you, Miss?"

Leonard's looking appropriately outraged. "Glen, you know me."

"Yeah," Glen says, grinning widely, "and I know how insufferable you can be, so the question stands."

Sara pretends she's thinking it over and then shakes her head while smiling beatifically. "No, we're fine."

"A beautiful woman like you with a guy like him?" He lowers his voice to Sara, making sure Leonard can still easily hear him, "You could do a lot better."

 _No,_ she thinks. _I couldn't_.

"Don't you have a door to uselessly stand around at?" Len frowns at him.

Glen pays him no mind as he hands Sara one of the business cards for the club. "We saw you dance, by the way. Not bad for a novice. Management's thinking of trying out an amateur night and they wanted me to extend the offer that you're welcome back anytime."

"Thanks," Sara says and Glen strolls off, whistling.

"I really need to find a new place," Leonard grumbles.

"Friendly staff," Sara remarks. "I'm starting to see the appeal of it here."

Len runs his hands over his head, as if to try and reset himself. "Of course you are. Is this part of your act? Just be straight with me."

For the first time, she almost wishes she _were_ a cop so she could arrest him out of spite for being annoying. Or something. Whatever, she'd make up a reason. "I'm not a cop. Look, is there any way I can prove it to you?"

"How about you do something illegal." His tone turns suggestive. "Do you need some…propositions?"

"I can think of a few, and you'd like exactly none of them," she threatens. "Besides, cops can do illegal things. In fact, it's pretty common when they're undercover." She belatedly realizes that the point doesn't exactly work in her favor.

"Is this your strategy? If so, it's a poor one," he says, like she needs the reminder. "You've presented zero evidence in your favor, and you must be aware that since I asked, you have to tell if you're law enforcement?"

She feels her exasperation rising, nothing new when it comes to him. " _I'm not law enforcement_. And you should know that's a myth, by the way. They don't have to tell, even if you ask."

"And who would know that myth better than the police?"

She's going to continue defending herself, except there's a hint of a smile on his face and she can no longer tell if he's arguing because he doesn't believe her, or because he's having too much fun. Either option is equally probable with him; she simply won't know unless he chooses to tell her.

_Mick said you were different. I think you're too much the same._

She tries another tactic. "Why would the police be after you, anyways? Why are you so important that you'd warrant a visit?"

He tries to stare her down in an actually threatening manner this time; too bad for him that intimidation tactic never worked on her, not then and not now. He'd never wanted to hurt her, that was one thing she'd always known.

"Are you like some criminal mastermind?" she continues, unable to stop needling him.

His expression swiftly changes, revealing how much he enjoys her description. "I can neither confirm nor deny. But I'll let you think what you want."

She checks the time and a sharp pain flares through her head, vanishing as quickly as it arrives. She wanted to stay longer than this, but she knows that leaving is the smartest option. He's already been suspicious of her, and even without being on the exact right track, he landed incredibly close to it. She knows she's pushing her luck (has been all night) and feels nothing but dread at the thought of talking to Gideon when she returns to the jump ship. How's that going to go, exactly?

_I think there were two of him, Gideon. What does that mean?_

_It means you have effectively destroyed the timeline, Ms. Lance. You don't have time to jump again so prepare to cease existing._

She gets to her feet so quickly that she jostles the table, almost tipping over his empty bottle. "As much fun as this has been, I just remembered I have to get going. Other plans tonight."

His eyes widen a bit at her almost-outburst, but he stands along with her. She waits for some sarcastic comment along the lines of _Good luck trying to find me ever again,_ or perhaps _Have fun with your investigation, Officer_.

Instead, he simply offers his hand. "Until next time, Sara."

She reaches out warily to take it, trying her best not to react to the electricity between them, always there no matter the space or time. "Thought you were convinced I was undercover?" she asks, curious about what he'd ultimately decided. "Sure you want to take that risk?"

He slowly pulls his hand away, and is it wishful thinking that he's as reluctant to let go as she always is? "You know I think I might. For you."

She briefly pauses while reaching for her coat, meeting his eyes to see if he's sincere. And yes, this is Leonard Snart as sincere as she's ever seen him.

He goes to the bar to pay for their last drinks, and for whatever reason (maybe she can't quite leave him yet) she goes with him.

"See you next time, Len," Lily tells him as she walks by to pick up the check at another table. She doesn't even acknowledge Sara.

Leonard nods at her and once he's done paying, he motions for Sara to accompany him out of the club.

They walk to the main entrance together and he holds the door open for her to exit first. She walks outside, reveling in the fresh air, and turns to say goodbye – but he's not there. She quickly scans the immediate vicinity, checking the parking lot in front of her and then stepping back into the club to glance around the interior. He's nowhere to be found.

She goes back to the parking lot, head spinning with a mixture of bewilderment, worry, and increasing fear. He couldn't have vanished into thin air…?

_Don't be ridiculous. He must have been distracted by something and gone back into the club, further than you saw when you went to check._

People didn't just disappear.

Except…they _did_ , didn't they? They left. They died. All the time.

It had happened to her. It had happened to Laurel. It had happened to –

 _Him_ , before her eyes once, in a blinding explosion of orange and white light.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for the encouragement so far, and Tavyn for reading this more than once, you are wonderful. This will be finished even if it takes me a little while to get there!

Sara steps onto the jump ship and takes a centering breath. "Gid –"

The AI doesn't even wait for her to finish, which isn't a great sign. "Ms. Lance, I have to strongly object to your current –"

"Not now, Gideon. Please tell me what I want to know."

Gideon's silent for a few moments (checking the timeline? Or…containing disappointment?). "Nothing has changed."

Sara sighs in relief, pressing her head back against the door behind her. She and her friends are safe…for now. But what kind of risk is she taking? The relentless thought returns again: _What are you doing, Sara_?

It's truly remarkable that her actions haven't caused any future havoc. No…more than havoc – chaos, disaster, ruin. Magnitudes of changes that she probably can't even begin to fathom. Is she really this lucky that everything she's been doing hasn't resulted in some unspeakable tragedy? And if luck truly is the only thing protecting her ( _all of them_ ), then how much longer is it going to hold? Especially if she keeps on her current path?

"Are the anomalies still there, Gideon?"

"They still exist," the AI confirms, "but they remain the same, as does the timeline."

"Then I don't have to rewrite tonight by jumping back in time again to make sure he never sees me."

"It would still be the wisest course –"

"Lots of things would be the wisest course of action, Gideon. When have we ever done any of them?"

The AI doesn't answer, maybe at a loss, and Sara runs over everything she knows about tonight.

"Gideon…"

"Yes, Ms. Lance?"

"Are you _sure_ the time anomalies are exactly the same?" Sara hesitates, "Because I saw some strange things I can't explain. Unless the stress of everything is getting to me…"

"What did you witness?"

"At one point I swear I saw two versions of Leonard." It feels strange saying that out loud (like it makes the incident real even though it couldn't possibly have been). "Then later, as I was leaving, he disappeared. I looked for him, but he was gone, so I don't think he just walked away quickly without me noticing. It could have been my mind playing tricks on me, but it felt like there was more to it."

"As far as the evidence indicates, the night is still stable despite the incidents you are describing. I'll run further analysis, but I must again urge you to submit to a physical examination when you return to the ship."

"Alright," Sara relents, figuring if she's crazy, she at least wants to know. "I'll make sure to have one before my next visit."

"Your next visit, Ms. Lance?"

Sara frowns at what she perceives as a critical tone. "What would it hurt if I went back?" She knows she's engaging in some serious double-think lately. Part of her constantly worries about her actions causing harm to the timeline and everyone in it, but another (more insistent) part wants to keep going.

(Perhaps the ultimate irony is that aside from herself, the only person who could convince her to willingly stop doesn't _exist_ in 2016 anymore.)

If she's honest with herself (and she often isn't lately) she'd never _really_ thought she'd have to implement her back-up plan of resetting the night. It had only been intended as a last resort, and if nothing in the timeline changed after having drinks with Leonard, there shouldn't be any problem with returning to do it again. After all, what are the odds that –

"The fact that things haven't changed already does not preclude them from changing in the future," Gideon says crisply, hint of disapproval in her tone, and Sara shivers at how the AI has uncannily read her mind. "Furthermore, any changes incurred might be significant, perhaps even catastrophic. After the destruction of the Oculus, there is no way to know for certain."

 _Maybe a significant change is needed,_ Sara thinks, almost angrily. _Who cares if things are worse if it means that Leonard's –_

The thought startles her so badly that she almost gasps. She can't honestly be thinking that getting him back would be worth whatever potential destruction came as a result?

She _is_ thinking it, though…because that's how she feels.

And it's _insane_.

Forget a physical examination – she's beginning to think her real problem is that she needs a psychiatrist. And she knows that would be Gideon's assessment, too, which is why she's not going to breathe a word of these thoughts to anyone.

It doesn't matter what she thinks (or dreams about) in the darkest parts of her mind. She won't do anything to risk her friends' lives – and that's what she'd be doing if she purposely tried to change 2013, right?

On the other hand, she seems to be proving, time and again, that nothing terrible will come from her visits. So what if this is time or fate working things out on its own? If so, she honestly doesn't know if she wants to make any effort to stop it. In truth, she's more inclined to help things along.

They're dangerous thoughts to have, never mind entertain. She should stop visiting the past altogether and try to move on, but something in her won't let it happen. Not when there's still the faintest bit of hope…

She can't sort through things on her own anymore, and since Gideon has proven unreceptive to the ideas she wants to discuss, it's time to turn elsewhere. It's a risk to bring anyone else into this, but when has the risk of something ever stopped her?

**XXXXXX**

She decides her best option is Professor Stein. Not only is he the most well-versed in physics and time travel, but she also suspects he'll be the easiest one to talk to about potential impacts on the timeline. (Or in other words, she thinks he's the least likely to judge her too harshly – considering what she's going to ask.)

The entire team has endlessly discussed the temporal anomalies over the past few months. Compared to the expertise of everyone else (except Jax, who usually sits and eats snacks while listening and nodding along, absorbing their knowledge like a sponge), she has the least to contribute. No one knows she's actually been _interacting_ with Leonard and she's holding back in their team discussions because the only things she wants to say might give away what she's been doing.

It awes her, almost, that even with that much intelligence on one ship, they still can't figure out what's happening in 2013. Rip says they can't ignore these anomalies, either, not when there's a risk this might be something serious that affects them in the future (…or the past). Mick says very little, either way, and Sara barely manages to stop herself from trying to get him to return to 2013 with her; he's made his decision and she doesn't want to cause a setback to any progress he might have made.

It's been eight days since she had drinks with Leonard and no one knows. ( _Nothing has changed_.) She finally finds Stein alone on the bridge, giving them the opportunity to talk without the others around. They're all off-ship, enjoying some downtime after a successful mission. People saved, timeline corrected, the usual things that they're getting pretty good at by now. She rarely leaves the ship with them anymore, preferring instead to go to 2013 whenever she has free time.

"Professor," she greets him. He's searching historical data to try and find evidence of visits to the past that were never properly recorded. He has a theory that other time travelers who've visited 2013 – and somehow hidden those trips from the Time Masters – might be the key to explaining the mysterious anomalies.

"Sara," he smiles at her warmly, and it falters when he sees her face. "How is everything?"

_Considering I don't even want to be in this year right now? Not that great._

"Fine," she lies, and wastes no time laying out her questions as a series of hypotheticals centering around the most important issues of her visits: What could potentially happen if she interacted with Leonard? What might happen if he knew her before they were eventually supposed to meet? Is she running the real risk of altering the course of his life, and if so, everyone else's in the process?

The professor takes off his glasses, deep in thought. "Well, obviously the worst case scenario would be a cataclysmic breakdown of the timeline. Or _timelines_ , plural. In such a scenario, you might experience instant displacement, and if so, you wouldn't even know it was happening. And we'd probably have no memory of you leaving to go to 2013 – or that you were ever on this team in the first place. And that's supposing this team even remained intact."

She swallows hard. She'd known it was a possibility, but to hear him say it in such stark terms makes the consequences seem terrifyingly real. Sure, she's had thoughts some days that non-existence might be preferable to this unending sadness, but she doesn't _actually_ want to die. Not when there's still a chance that –

 _Stop_ , she orders herself. _You are never getting him back_.

Too bad she doesn't believe it even as she thinks it. Denial is such a terrible and wonderful thing.

She directs her thoughts back to what Stein just told her. "But wouldn't a new reality need time to 'set'? So we'd know if anything _really_ awful happened." She almost resents talking about this out loud because it brings the risks she's taking into painful focus.

"That's how it's always worked, yes, but remember that we're talking about an unusual time and place. There are anomalies on that night in 2013 that no one, not even Gideon, can explain. Time might operate differently there than we're used to. It stands to reason that if things change, we might get less of a warning…or no warning at all. We could wake up to a new reality and be none the wiser."

Sara can't help thinking that might be better than the way she lives now. Even if her memories of this entire timeline were erased, at least she wouldn't be miserable anymore. She could live her life never having known…

No. _No_. She'd give up anything else before she gave up her memories of Leonard, even if they only torture her. He's worth the suffering.

Stein's studying her with unusually sharp eyes, and she wonders if he can see the thoughts flickering across her face. "There might be worse consequences than waking up in a new life. You might be sent down a path where you've _already_ died. And if that's the case, Sara, then you'd never 'wake up' at all. You'd simply disappear."

She can only imagine what he'll think of her next question, especially after he's just given such a terrible synopsis of possible outcomes, but she has to ask: "If I spoke to him once and nothing changed, do you think it'd be safe for me to do it again?" She prays he'll say yes, because it's the conclusion that she's come to on her own. And she has no idea what she'll do if he says no.

Again, that sharp gaze, and is there the slightest hint of concern on his face? "In theory, I suppose if you've already made changes that haven't altered anything thus far, it's somewhat safe to assume that in the future you could repeat those actions without too much risk. Why would you ever take that chance the first time, though?"

She breathes a sigh of relief at his words, but doesn't answer his question. Instead, she looks away, tapping her fingers on the back of the chair next to her.

Maybe evasion is another one of her tells, because it's then that he asks, "Sara, these aren't hypotheticals, are they?"

She doesn't even bother denying it. "No, they're not. Please don't tell the others. I'm going to…in my own time."

He smiles at her, but it's – God, it's so damn _sad_. "I'm sorry, Sara. I had no idea that you and Mr. – that you and Leonard were as close as –"

"We're not," she interrupts.

He presses his mouth into a thin line and she recognizes her mistake. She's speaking in the wrong tense.

"What I mean is that we _weren't_ that close. These trips mess with my thoughts sometimes. I can't…"

Stein clearly feels sorry for her and she can't even muster up the energy to be angry about it. "It's alright, Sara. I do believe I understand. If it were Clarissa and I had the chance, I don't think I could stay away, either."

She grips the edge of the center console, reminds herself to breathe evenly. "I don't know how to stop."

"Because you don't want to."

"No, I don't." She's relieved that he gets it. _Finally_ , someone gets it.

"For what it's worth, I do believe there will come a day when you'll want to stop," he says, pressing one of his hands over hers in some small measure of comfort. "Until then, I'll keep it between us – and I presume, Gideon – if you promise that you'll come see me if you need help with anything whatsoever."

"I thought I saw two of him," she says suddenly, and he's taken aback – he'd essentially told her the door was unlocked and she'd responded by kicking it down. It's been eating away at her though, and she _has_ to confide in someone other than Gideon. "It lasted a few seconds. I blinked and the second version of him was gone."

She expects any reaction other than what she gets – excited intrigue. "Amazing! Do you think it was double vision? Were things blurry? Did you have a headache or were you excessively tired at the time?"

"Yes to the last two, but it wasn't like any double vision I've had before. I'd swear there were two of him and the 'copy' of him, or whatever you want to call it, was sitting in a place where he never sits on any of my visits. It went on for maybe twenty, thirty seconds? I mentioned it to Gideon and let her run every medical test she wanted on me, but none of them indicated anything that would cause double vision or anything like it. I mean, the exam showed that my stress and anxiety are a little high…"

"That alone is unlikely to cause an extended instance of double vision," Stein confirms, "but I wouldn't rule it out."

"There was one other thing; he disappeared on me, for lack of a better word. He was there one moment, then I turned around and he was gone."

"Two aberrant events during one visit? That's certainly worth studying."

"Do you think something's happening with the timeline?"

The professor considers that for a minute. "I can't say without further information, so keep on the look-out for any similar experiences." Sara finds it rather reassuring how matter-of-fact he sounds. (He'd be reacting much worse if her experiences were indicative of the world ending, right?)

"You think I should go back?" she asks carefully.

He's already nodding. "Your visits just might be the key to solving the time anomalies in 2013. If you're already acting differently during your visits and that isn't altering the timeline, then maybe we're onto something here. I'm not officially telling you to try and change your actions, but if you happen to do so and notice more strange occurrences, then report them back to me."

She's starting to feel hopeful again. "I can do that, and maybe you could find some way to present that argument to everyone else the next time they get on me about going back?"

He's already pulling up more newspaper accounts from three years ago, and she has no idea if he even heard her. "Right. I'm going to look into some new possibilities."

"Okay. Thank you." She impulsively hugs him, biting back a smile when he's at a loss for what to do and cautiously taps her on the back a few times.

"You're welcome."

She's almost to the hallway when he calls her name and she turns around.

"I just wanted to say we all miss him, too. I know it doesn't seem like it, but…you are not alone."

She nods, feeling her throat close. "I know."

And she does know. (All too often, though, that's not the same as _feeling_ it.)

She makes her way to the jump ship, replaying his words over in her mind. She pretty much has his implied permission to visit now, and it lifts some of the pressure she's been feeling, along with the guilt of making questionable, maybe dangerous choices. What's more, if she can actually try to change things now – in an effort to figure out these anomalies, of course – then the possibilities are virtually endless.

And if his conjectures are no more certain than her own, well, she'll just choose not to think about that at all.

**XXXXXX**

Sara sits at the bar.

Leonard offers to buy her a drink.

His opening line ("What's a girl like you doing in a place like this?") is getting so repetitive that she's started mouthing it along with him. Sometimes he breaks off in consternation, other times he finishes and assesses her with that exasperated amusement she misses so much.

They relive the evening several times without any major alterations. In an effort to take the process slowly, she decides her first goal is to 'perfect' their night, getting it to unfold exactly how she wants it to (minus dragging him back to the jump ship with her and bringing him to 2016 and destroying the timeline and maybe the world in the process…of course).

It's easy to correct the mistakes she's made with him so far. She doesn't tell him she's from the wrong city. She wears better outfits for pole dancing (for the nights when she actually does it). She tries to seem less affected by his presence. (It's always a toss-up on how successful she is at that last one – one time, after he mentions preferring to 'operate on his own', she shoots back something about knowing that's not true and it's only his suspicious look of confusion that reminds her he's not the same man that she lost…at least not yet.)

It only takes a couple more visits for Sara to realize that how much she flirts with Leonard has a direct correlation to how hostile their waitress is to her. In any other situation it might annoy her, but she only sympathizes with Lily – she can't blame the younger woman for her crush. And she can relate to her in a way…after all, neither of them will ever have him.

That thought usually depresses her and she orders an extra shot every night that it comes around (and Lily delivers it with a sneer or sympathetic smile, depending).

It takes five more visits for her to perfect her behavior enough that Leonard doesn't accuse her of being a cop. She has to play up her criminal traits more, but not too obviously, because when she tries to be _too_ obvious, he thinks she's trying to overcompensate as a 'fellow criminal' in an effort to gain his trust – he's so _goddamn infuriating_. (And yet she loves it – she wouldn't have it any other way.)

She keeps her talk with Stein at the forefront of her mind and for several visits she's hyper-aware of anything out of the ordinary. Her paranoia is so bad that Leonard picks up on it (he asks her more than once if she has a stalker) and she has to start toning things down a notch.

She doesn't see a second version of Leonard again, nor does he disappear on her at the end of the night, but that's not to say that other strange things don't happen. The problem is they're trivial enough that she can't be sure if they have anything to do with the timeline; they might be easily explainable events that she's misconstruing.

Like one night while scanning the room she swears she catches a glimpse of Mick near the front entrance, but by the time she looks back, he's gone. (It might have been someone who looked like him.)

Another night, right when she arrives, the bartender slides her a glass before she can order anything. Oddly, it's what she almost always gets for her first drink. She shrugs it off, chalking it up to a lucky guess on his part. (Or maybe it's a customer incentive program that she's somehow not been aware of before.)

And then there's the time when she goes to settle her tab before Leonard can grab it, and the receipt doesn't match anything she's ordered that night. While she's fighting with the bartender, Leonard comes over and offers to take care of it, but she refuses to let him pay for 7 vodka shots she never had. (The club finally canceled out the bill, but she was annoyed she had to fight it in the first place. She'd never been wrongly charged there before, nor had she asked for vodka on _any_ visit.)

There are probably a dozen more similar incidents that stick out to her, but they're all minor things that could happen to anyone without them thinking twice. The difference is that she's _always_ thinking twice.

Even Stein isn't too concerned when she mentions the unusual occurrences. He often labels them 'fascinating, but inconclusive'. And he comes to that conclusion because despite whatever happens, none of the visits change the timeline. While that slightly disappoints Sara because part of her still _hopes_ things will eventually change, she's mostly happy that what she's doing isn't putting anyone at risk. Oh sure, she knows there are no guarantees with anything in life, but her comfort level is steadily growing. Even Mick, Rip, and Gideon have stopped giving her dire warnings about what might happen – they're still unhappy about her trips (concern for her health being the most cited reason) but if the timeline hasn't collapsed yet, odds are pretty slim that it will.

Or so she keeps telling herself.

It takes nine or ten visits, spread over two months, for Sara to perfect the evening until there's nothing new or exciting about it. And while she'd be content to live the same night with him forever, it's too tempting to know that she can have more.

(She wants to take Leonard out of there. Out of that bar, out of that place, out of that _time_. But she can't.)

Nothing she does changes the reality of their circumstances, so she comforts herself by changing their evening instead. She asks different questions, brings up new topics, and is open about herself in a way she hasn't been before (at least, not with this past version of him). She sheds her fear, her anxiety, her paranoia. She stops watching every event around the club to try and see if anything is wrong or slightly off. She's becoming carefree in a way she hasn't felt since before her world changed.

And while she's doing better emotionally, she's starting to feel more of a physical toll. She considers telling the others, but her issues could be from anything, really. It's not like they lead calm, easy lives. They're always trying to help people, trying to keep the timeline stable without the Oculus, trying to stop those who want to take advantage of the new world order where the Time Masters aren't able to police things. So why tell her team about some minor issues if she isn't even sure what's causing them in the first place? She's also worried that any hint of not feeling well will be met with a permanent ban on her trips – or worse, being removed from the team. She simply can't risk it.

The most prevalent issue is that she's been getting tired lately – if 'tired' is even the right word for it, because it feels like so much more than that. It's more than exhaustion, even. The feeling smothers her, engulfing her entire body most nights. She collapses into bed for 11, 12 hours at a time now – she'll fall asleep at 8 pm and won't wake up until 8 am the next morning…and somehow feel like she hasn't slept at all.

Her headaches have been coming more frequently, too. Painkillers often help, but the occasions where they won't touch it are growing in number. Sometimes she'll get inexplicably dizzy while walking or exercising or right after a time jump and she'll have to take a few minutes to collect herself.

However, those problems don't bother her as much as the fact that she's been having momentary mental lapses. It's harder to remember things, sometimes. She'll have difficulty thinking of the particular word she wants to say or have trouble following the line of a conversation. She's taken to asking the others to repeat things, feigning as if she's distracted and hasn't heard them, in order to stall and think of what to say in response.

One afternoon, while lying in bed, supposedly writing up her account of their last mission (she's actually planning to take a nap), her thoughts drift and she suddenly realizes that she can't remember her sister's name. Louise, Lara, Lucy…she runs through L's with increasing desperation as she clenches her fists so tightly that she actually draws blood from her palms.

She tries to use her memories to get there. Her father is Quentin. Her mother is Dinah. She's Sara. Her sister is…

There's nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Sara can picture her clearly, the best friend and confidante from her childhood. She can see the two of them as they get older, and the lifetime of memories they've shared (some so crystal clear they might have happened yesterday), but there's a blank, empty space where her sister's name should be.

She sits up, feeling her heart rate racing along with the growing panic. She repeats her family's names three, five, ten times. Quentin Lance and Dinah Lance and Sara Lance and –

Laurel Lance. _Laurel Lance_. The name springs into her mind suddenly and she pictures each individual letter with such abject relief that it almost hurts. Laurel. Of course it's Laurel. She knows that. She _knew_ that.

She looks numbly at the small cuts on her hands, wondering why she can't feel them.

It had been a mere slip, a distraction. She hadn't _actually_ forgotten her sister's name.

Had she?

**XXXXXX**

It's a handful of visits later.

Mick will never arrive and Sara's drinking alone at the bar and Leonard's eyes are on her.

She can _feel_ him.

She's chosen vodka tonight because she tries to mix things up as much as she can nowadays, even if it's something as simple as the drink she chooses to start her night.

For the first time, she'd taken aspirin _before_ she came and as a result her head is feeling mostly normal…for once. If she closes her eyes and concentrates, she can feel the subtle, pulsing pressure, but the pain (that she's unfortunately getting used to living with) is absent.

Thank you, pharmaceutical companies. She checks the label on the bottle the bartender had poured from – and Smirnoff.

She never knows what she's going to get when she visits Leonard now. Their nights have become a mixture of old events repeating and new events that surprise her. She's found that it's almost like their interaction has a mirror effect – the more open she is, the more freely he speaks on different topics; the more questions she asks, the more he reciprocates. It's also interesting to note that this is the opposite of what she'd seen from him when they worked together on the team. Back then, she'd noticed he closed himself off more when strangers showed an increasing interest. Yet, with her (a virtual stranger), he seems to become more open, more alive, more…himself.

At times, she swears he's getting closer to the version of himself that their team had known.

Sometimes…she looks at him and sees the Leonard she lost.

It's impossible, though. It has to be her imagination imbuing him with memories and feelings that this version of him doesn't possess…that this version hasn't _earned_. She knows that despite what number visit they're on (21? Maybe?) he never knows her. The night resets each time she comes here, so no matter how many times _she_ remembers, to him it's always their first visit.

Some nights that fact bothers her. Others, she wants to hold onto him and cry and it doesn't matter if he remembers or not because he just _is_ and that's enough.

Since her thoughts can get pretty dark at times, she makes a concerted effort to keep herself from falling even deeper into a hole she fears she'll never escape from – laughter is the best preventive measure for that. She teases him as often as she can, always trying to make him laugh, and she takes great delight in saying some of his jokes before he does. She loves the look on his face when she surprises him. (He's accused her of being psychic on three separate occasions.)

She should probably know better than to say what he's about to, but she rarely bothers checking herself anymore because it's been consistent for months: no matter how much their visits differ, the timeline never changes.

She's starting to think she could do almost anything in this bar with Leonard and the timeline would remain the same. It's like she's safe in here – not just from whatever anomalies might be occurring in 2013, but also from the quiet worry and grief of her friends back home. (And the knife-sharp, overwhelming pain of stunning loss that she always feels after these trips.)

She won't dwell on that now, though. Not when she just got here tonight and gets to live it all over again.

She's sitting in her usual place at the bar and doesn't bother hiding the fact that she's watching Leonard savor his drink over at what she's starting to think of as 'their table'.

The next time she looks over, he waves exaggeratedly and holds his arms out in a ' _May as well come over here if you dare'_ gesture.

She grins and stands up, swaying slightly. What number shot is she on, exactly? She might have been drinking faster than normal this evening. She'd been in a good mood before she came, and since those are few and far between, she'd decided to capitalize on it by taking a trip to 2013.

It just feels so _good_ to be here, to see him right where he's supposed to be. To know that she can have several hours with him uninterrupted. To know she can redo this same night at any point in the future when she wants to. Or needs to.

She makes it to his table and sits down as gracefully as she can manage – which isn't as smooth as she hoped, since she bumps the table too hard and he grips his drink to ensure it doesn't tip over.

What's she always repeating to herself?

_Tread carefully and be light?_

Yeah, that sounds about right.

"How many of those have you had?" he asks, nodding at her shot glass. Which is now empty – can't have that! She snaps her fingers at Lily and when the pretty, red-haired waitress seems annoyed at the gesture, Sara tacks on her warmest, most inviting smile. She's rewarded by Lily smiling in return and holding up a finger to signal she'll be over in a minute.

Lily's flirted with Leonard tonight and _all_ of the previous nights that Sara's been here. Rather than feel jealous about it, Sara's always entertained, because he only smiles politely at Lily and never flirts with her – not after he sees Sara (and not _before_ he sees Sara, either).

She knows it's not her imagination that Leonard has never once looked at that girl the way he looks at her.

(And he doesn't even know Sara Lance! That's the part that makes Sara strangely giddy when she thinks about it.)

Leonard clears his throat and she remembers that he's waiting for an answer to his question.

"Four? Five?" She waves her hand around in the air. "No matter. I can hold my liquor."

"I can tell. Maybe slow it down before you pass out on me."

"I have a ways to go before that happens," she promises, and the feeling of being there _with him_ mixed with the pleasant buzz of the alcohol has her feeling pretty high.

There's growing rumbling in the distance, an approaching storm. _Was there always a storm this night in 2013_? She has no idea, and for a moment she wonders why she can't remember…oh right, the shots probably have something to do with it.

The overhead lights dim a few times before thankfully staying on. Sara sobers up a bit as she looks around the club and Leonard sees her concern.

"You afraid of storms?"

"No," she says, ignoring the distant part of her mind that warns maybe she should be paying more attention – she just honestly isn't too concerned. Nothing from this night changes the timeline, no matter what occurs, so there's nothing to worry about…right?

"What are the odds this place has a back-up generator?" Leonard asks.

The waitress arrives and overhears his question. "You don't need electricity to serve liquor. Or dance. Or…other things." Lily winks at Len, Sara grins at Lily, and Leonard somehow looks exasperated with both of them.

"I'll have what Sara's having," he tells Lily.

"Two vodka shots, coming up," the waitress confirms.

"Make them doubles," Sara calls after her.

Lily looks at Leonard questioningly, and he wordlessly shakes his head no.

Sara tries to figure out what struck her as odd about their exchange, but everything seems to fit like it should. Lily always flirts and Leonard's never anything more than polite. Sometimes Lily gets them drinks, sometimes Leonard goes to the bar and does it himself. Nothing seems off about either of them tonight.

It's the first time she's gotten vodka, though, and she's never had this much to drink this early. Len had changed his own drink and –

 _I'll have what Sara's having_.

No. That's not possible.

She never told him her name; they haven't even _introduced_ themselves to each other yet.

At least, not tonight.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really appreciate all the feedback, it keeps me motivated!
> 
> We are probably the only two who care, but Tavyn and I made a bet on who could finish their next chapter first and I easily won, so hopefully it inspires her to write faster. She also takes issue with the 'humor' tag for this story, so I had to prove her wrong. And as always, her requests and feedback helped shape the direction of this chapter for the better and I appreciate it very much.

 

"You'll have…what?" Sara asks, dread infusing each word like it's a palpable thing. The enjoyable haze of the alcohol is fading too fast and she hopes Lily returns quickly with their next round of shots.

It takes Leonard a few seconds to understand what she's asking. "I said I'll have what you're having. Did you want something else?"

She shakes her head impatiently, then reconsiders when that doesn't do anything for her sense of equilibrium. "You said my name."

He's clearly not following. "And?"

She leans forward over the table as much as she can without falling off her seat (and still nearly does anyways). "How do you know my name?"

"You introduced yourself."

"No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did."

"No," she says forcefully, splaying her hands on the table. "I didn't."

"You did," he insists. Instead of being put off by her unnecessarily aggressive arguments, he only seems concerned. He folds his arms and places them on the table, studying her like he can't decide whether she's serious or trying to pull one over on him. "You said your name was Sara, I said mine was Leonard, and –"

"No." She feels like she's a broken record at this point. "That didn't happen." _Not tonight_.

He seems to give in, lifting a shoulder in confusion. "How the hell else would I know who you are?"

She has no idea. And that's the problem.

Lily drops off their shots and Sara thinks she definitely exercises restraint by only sipping half of hers. She needs to slow down.

"Have you seen me here before?" she asks, somewhat desperately, trying to throw out an explanation that he might find halfway plausible.

His concern gives way to a charming smile. "Unfortunately, I haven't."

"I just meant…that might be where you knew me from," she explains. She actually wishes that he'd said he _had_ seen her around, because that would at least explain how he knew her name. And part of her has been hoping that maybe – _maybe_ there's a chance he could remember other visits…

 _No, that's insane._ Why would she torture herself by imagining such a possibility?

"Believe me, darling, I'd remember you," he assures, somehow reading her mind, and she suppresses a shiver as the words wash over her. She fights the crazy urge to lean across the table – it'd be so easy to close the two-foot distance between them and kiss him. Again. Or for the first time?

(Does it matter anymore?)

"I wish you _did_ remember me." It's another thing she says without thinking, and she's had enough to drink that she doesn't care.

"Are you trying to tell me that you're a regular I've somehow been missing?"

 _Something like that_. "I might have stopped by before," she says, to explain why she'd asked if he recognized her, "but I'm not a regular." _Not unless you count coming almost every week to relive the same night for the past several months._ (Actually, by that criteria, she's more of a regular than many of the people who actually _belong_ in 2013.)

"I think you should consider it," he's saying, and she can tell he's purposely keeping his tone light, maybe not wanting to scare her off. "We could be regulars together, me –"

"– and you," she whispers, saying it the same time he does. She can't look at him, choosing to down the rest of her shot instead. (So much for going slow.)

"See? I can tell you think it'd be fun to be regulars together." He smiles at her and it's so damn _familiar_. "It's up to you, Sara."

Another shock flashes through her when he says her name. Is it really so far-fetched that she might have introduced herself to him on _this_ visit and then forgotten? She has to admit there have been so many trips that they've started blending together in her memory, and she hasn't been on her game mentally, either, for some time. She's been missing things she should notice and forgetting things that should be damn near unforgettable… (Laurel's face flashes through her mind, and Sara feels her stomach twist with unrelenting guilt.)

When a loud rumble of thunder sounds above them, she has to consciously stop herself from reacting. Maybe it wasn't that she'd 'forgotten', maybe the vodka had hit her harder than she'd expected. It's not her normal drink of choice and she'd taken those shots pretty fast and that's also probably why she's not quite remembering a storm on this night…

She's experienced plenty of strange things with Leonard before and she's written off every single one of them. Why should tonight be any different?

Because…either she's losing it and completely blanked out the memory of exchanging names, or there's something more off with the timeline than they've realized. She's actually not sure which option would be worse.

For the first time since she began visiting him, she's preoccupied enough that she feels like she's going through the motions. She falls back into repeating her part in conversations they've already had. In her current state of mind, it's easier than trying to forge new replies.

What if tonight _is_ different from all the other nights? Maybe it's catching up to her. She might be destroying the timeline, it might be unraveling _right in front of her_ , and she… Just. Keeps. Drinking.

She signals for Lily to bring another round and asks for a rum and coke this time. It's better than another shot, right? She ignores the way Leonard's looking at her; he probably suspects she's an alcoholic.

Whatever, she can fix it next time.

Sara Lance, the hero no one deserves, right?

Really, though…Gideon will tell her if anything horrible is happening and she'll redo the night without seeing him and – okay, it might be pretty difficult to pull off considering how much she's had to drink, but she can soldier through if she has to.

She tells herself not to worry. Nothing from this night has ever changed the timeline…

Something in her doesn't believe it, though. As the night wears on, her sense of dread does nothing except make her edgy and paranoid. Leonard seems to pick up on her mood, acting much cagier than normal, probably sensing her worry and distraction. He keeps asking if she's okay, never seeming to believe her when she deflects. (He's awfully worried about a stranger, isn't he? She tries to pretend it means nothing.)

It's not much longer before Sara realizes she's lost count of how many drinks she's had. When she tells Leonard that hilarious fact, he presses his mouth into a line and flags Lily down to wrap up their night (much earlier than normal). Sara specifically asks for separate bills, wanting to see an actual count of what she'd ordered. She'll still let Leonard pay if he wants (which he usually does) and she doesn't feel guilty about it anymore because he starts with the same amount of money each visit.

She doesn't want to leave, but she knows it's for the best. From the way he's watching her, she's already thinking she'll have to slip out of the bar before he insists on getting her home safely.

Lily returns in record time and hands Leonard the checks. He sets his aside and does a double take at Sara's, furrowing his brow. Her entire body starts feeling cold, apprehension and anxiety warring for top place in her mind.

She's remembering a handful of visits ago when she'd gotten a bill that included 7 vodka shots and various other drinks she'd never had.

"It's not right," Sara says, before he can.

He flicks his gaze from the check to her. "No, it's not. There's not even any shots on here," he spares her an arch look, "and I don't know how they could've missed the three dozen you had."

"It wasn't three dozen," she sulks.

"How'd you know this was wrong?"

_You'd never believe me if I told you._

"Sara?"

_How do you know my name?_

He pushes the bill across the table in silent reiteration of his question that she hasn't answered.

"It was a guess on my part. They probably make mistakes here a lot," she murmurs. (Except they don't, and him being a regular means he knows it, too.)

There's no way she can tell him that she thinks the bills might have gotten switched between two of her visits.

He's already beckoning Lily back over, explaining Sara was charged for the wrong drinks. Lily starts to argue and then looks at the few empty shot glasses on the table. She blinks, shakes her head, and says, "I thought for sure you'd ordered…and the system said – know what, just pay that bill, it's much less anyways."

"Thanks, we'll leave you a nice tip to make up for it," Leonard tells Lily, and she smiles flirtatiously at him before leaving.

"I probably had too many," Sara admits, after a wave of dizziness.

"Oh, _now_ you think it was too many?"

She ignores him, pressing her hands to her head. It's just two wrong bills on different nights. Well, on the same night, but…her headache is coming back. Mistakes, that's all. The bills haven't been swapped between the nights, that's impossible. It would defy the laws of time and physics itself. ( _As if time travel doesn't somehow do that already?_ )

At least while she's been worrying, the storm has mostly faded away into nothing. It's possible they've always had one this night and she just…never noticed. The music can get loud sometimes. And her attention is always so focused on Leonard that it's definitely possible she could have been tuning out everything else around her. (But then why did he and Lily talk about it when they never had before?)

"I'll drive you home," he offers, just like she'd guessed he would.

Yeah, that'd go over really well. _Go down four blocks and take a left, you can drop me off in the vacant lot where my space ship is cloaked. Don't worry, I'm not actually going to fly it in the state I'm in – it'll do that on its own_. He'd be doing a U-turn to bring her to the nearest in-patient psychiatric center.

"I'm good," she says. "I'm sober enough to…manage on my own." She doesn't want to say she's sober enough to 'walk'; it'll make him think she lives within walking distance and he'll probably insist on going with her in that case, too.

"Sober enough, huh?" he repeats. "Why don't you prove it."

She has a flashback to the night he'd challenged her to prove she wasn't high-maintenance. She remembers the impressed, appreciative look in his eyes when she'd proven him wrong. Is it such a terrible thing that she wants a chance to have that look directed at her again?

"How could I prove it?" _Oh God, don't suggest pole dancing. One spin around and I'll be stumbling right off stage._

Thankfully, his thoughts go another way. "Why don't you say the alphabet backwards?"

"I wouldn't be able to do that even if I were sober," she laughs, then quickly schools her expression. "Which I am. Mostly."

"Alright, so you have a third grade education, duly noted. I'm guessing simple math is out of the question, too?" He winces when she kicks him under the table. "For some reason, you strike me as a physical kind of girl. How about you stand up and walk in a straight line to that booth at the other end of the room? If you can make it there and back without stumbling, tripping, or falling, I'll believe you."

She turns to see how far he's pointing and damn, could he have picked a _further_ point in the club? "That's like a mile away!"

"It's probably 30, 35 steps."

"I thought we weren't doing math," she complains, reluctantly getting to her feet. She instantly sways at the movement and grabs the table for support. "I'm a little light-headed. Low blood sugar."

"You just had a rum and coke."

"It takes a while to get into the bloodstream," she argues.

"To be fair, there's probably no room left for sugar in your blood when it's 50% vodka."

She's about to argue when she realizes (from his smile) that it was a joke on his part. "You're not funny."

"I'm a little funny," he insists, motioning for her to start walking. "I'm waiting."

" _Fine_." She turns, a bit too quickly, and before she can fully process what's happening, someone is falling into her and the momentum has them both crashing into the table.

Leonard's up like a shot, shoving the other person away from her far more aggressively than he needs to and situating himself between the two of them. Sara knows he's ready for a fight and that's when she realizes who it is – David, the drunk man who _always_ falls into their table. She grabs Leonard's hand before he can even think about swinging at David and curses her spectacularly bad timing tonight.

"It's okay," she tells Leonard, keeping a hold on him until he slowly uncurls his fist. "He's drunk."

"He needs to watch where he's going," Len says, not taking his eyes off David – who has only just now managed to regain his balance and shuffled back to stand in front of them.

"Hey, your girl started it," he protests, giving Sara an appreciative once-over. "How ya doing, honey?"

She instantly knows he's much drunker than she'd suspected on any previous visit; only someone completely intoxicated would hit on her with Leonard standing right there, looking like he wants to kill with his gaze alone.

"I'm doing about as good as your girlfriend," Sara informs David, vaguely gesturing behind her to where his girlfriend's always waiting.

He pales considerably. "You know Sheila?"

"In a manner of speaking. I've seen you both here before."

"I thought you weren't a regular here?" Leonard asks, confused. "And if you are, _how_ exactly have I missed you?"

Uh oh. She ignores his questions, hoping the conversation will distract him, and addresses David. "I can hear her calling you."

"David!" Sheila yells, right on cue, as she comes over and sizes up the two people standing with her boyfriend. "What's taking so long?"

"I had a few drinks before getting here," he admits, looking more afraid of her by the second.

"Are you _drunk_?" she asks, shrilly.

"What do you mean by drunk?" David prevaricates, pulling at his collar. He must have gone to the Leonard Snart School of Evasion.

"Are you hitting on this girl?" she demands, and Sara belatedly realizes Sheila is referring to her. "In front of her boyfriend, no less? That's how you end up _murdered_ , David. Because he looks like he wants to murder you."

Leonard's clearly pleased with that assessment and Sara rolls her eyes. (It won't occur to her until much, much later that neither of them corrects the mistaken assumption that they're a couple.)

" _She_ hit on _me_ ," David tries, probably thinking it's an easy way to get out of the trouble he's in.

Sara can't believe his blatant lie. "I didn't hit you!"

"Hit on," Leonard repeats, in an exaggerated tone. "Hit _on_."

She crosses her arms, almost losing her balance at the movement, and Leonard's hand on her shoulder steadies her. "Well, I didn't do that either."

David and Sheila start bickering and Leonard takes the opportunity to lean toward Sara, whispering, "Why do I think that you hitting someone would be your idea of a come-on?"

She tries to shut him down with a (completely ineffective) look. "Gee, I don't know. Maybe because it's _your_ idea of a come-on?"

"Hmm, maybe." He stares into space, and she can only guess he's _actually imagining it_. "Hit me and let's see what happens."

Everything's fuzzy, but Leonard… Leonard's always in focus. "You're twisted. I'm not going to hit you."

"Your loss." He shrugs, like this is a missed opportunity she'll regret forever. (Well…there _had_ been plenty of times he'd deserved a punch and she'd valiantly held back.)

"Why do I get the feeling that you're thinking it's _your_ loss?" she replies, and he only grins at her, obviously enjoying the conversation much more than a normal person should.

She tunes back in to the other couple's conversation in time to hear David tell Sheila, "Everyone saw, babe. I was walking by and she literally threw herself at me!"

Sara's outraged at the injustice of it. "I most certainly did not! If I were to throw myself at _anyone_ in this club, it would definitely not be you." Her gaze shifts unbidden to Leonard. "And I'd be making them buy me a drink first. I'm an old-fashioned girl. I have _morals_."

"Wait, you have morals?" Leonard mock gasps. "I'm rethinking getting to know you, then." Sara tries to elbow him, misses, and ends up leaning against his side.

Sheila must have taken Sara's words as an insult to her boyfriend, if her reaction is any indication. "What, is my man not _good enough_ for you?"

Sara opens her mouth and then shuts it again. She has no idea how to defuse the situation. It would help if the world weren't so hazy, but…

"No, he's not," Len says, and it's so unhelpful that Sara thinks he's mastered that quality down to a fine art.

David accepts the unspoken challenge and steps forward, but Sheila quickly jumps in front of him, obviously not liking his chances against Leonard. "Stop. I don't want to have to call your bitch of a mother to explain how you got yourself killed."

David and Sheila start swearing at each other which gets the attention of Glen, the bouncer who's always on duty tonight. Sara watches him usher them out, still yelling at each other the entire time.

"You did wonders for their relationship," Len remarks, dryly.

"If I'm not ruining my own, I have to be ruining someone else's," she tells him. And that's another thing – what exactly is she dealing with here? This is the first time she's had such an obvious effect on other people in the club. What if they break up and it's because of her? It's funny, because in 2016 she'd be laughing and not caring at all, but since she's in the past, all she can worry about is the possible ramifications on the timeline.

"I could use another drink," she says, wearily.

"No." He points to the other end of the room. "You're supposed to be proving you're 'sober'. Get to walking in that straight line."

She looks over at the booth against the far wall. It seems so far away. And is it _moving_? "Uh, you said a straight line? What if I like, weaved around a few objects, I think that'd be a better way to –"

"Straight line. As in, no curves, no waves, no S shape, no –"

"I get it," she snaps. It shouldn't be hard, one foot in front of the other. She slowly crosses the room to reach the empty booth, carefully pivots (the trickiest part), and then makes her way back. So what if she has to watch her feet the entire time? And fully concentrate on keeping her balance? At least she made it without actually falling to the floor.

"Told you I could walk straight!" she cheers once she bumps the edge of the table, finally looking up – to find a middle-aged couple who don't seem too impressed. She glances around to make sure she's still in the same building (a _bar and_ _strip club_ , right?) before looking back at them. They seem a little out of place, but she won't judge. She'd be pretty happy if she reached that age and had someone she could go anywhere with – she can only picture that kind of future with one person, actually. And he's not here.

She squints at the 50-something man. "You're not Leonard." She turns to the woman. "And neither are you."

"Are you okay, hon?" the woman asks, worriedly.

"I'm not sure," Sara answers, unflinchingly honest. "I never really know, anymore." Had he ditched her? Or had –

A new fear slams into her, stealing her breath and forcing her to grip the edge of the table before her legs give out. He _can't_ have disappeared. Not again. Not when –

"You're five tables off," Leonard says from behind her, not bothering to hide that he's laughing.

 _Oh thank_ _God_ , he's still here. She spins around and throws her arms around his neck, surprising him enough that he has to take a step back with her. "I thought I lost you," she mumbles into his shoulder. "Again."

He doesn't hesitate to hug her, though she can hear his confusion when he speaks. "What do you mean _again_?"

"I don't think you should be leaving her unattended," the man at the table scolds Leonard.

"No kidding," Leonard replies, as Sara abruptly gets over her excessive display of sentimentality and shoves him away.

"You switched tables with them," she accuses.

"We've been here all night," the woman claims.

"Don't lie for him!" Sara nearly yells.

"She's had a little too much," Leonard says apologetically.

"I can handle my liquor perfectly fine. I'll do another round of shots to prove it!"

"We're very sorry," he tells the couple, putting his hands on Sara's shoulders and guiding her back to their actual table. Or that which he _says_ is their table.

"I know you switched," she mutters.

He makes sure she's safely seated before sitting across from her again. "While I would have had plenty of time to switch tables in the _half hour_ it took you to get to the other side of the room and back, I assure you I didn't."

"I wasn't gone that long." Was she?

"Maybe not quite, but it was still a long time. And you can't walk in a straight line to save your life."

"It was straight…enough."

"You were weaving all over the place," he scoffs. "People were dodging you left and right."

He has to be exaggerating. "I didn't see anyone.

"Because you were staring at your feet the whole time!"

He could have a point. "Perhaps I'm _slightly_ inebriated. I'm still fine to get home on my own. And I swear I'm not driving."

His teasing demeanor fades and he seems uncomfortable. "You're not worried that – what I mean is, I'm not the type of person who would…"

She swallows hard when she realizes that he's worried she might be afraid he'd try and take advantage of her (or worse), and that's why she won't accept a ride. "I would never think that. I trust you."

"You shouldn't," he frowns, apparently worried now that she's too trusting. "You just met me."

"'Just' is relative," she says. "And why do you care so much, anyways?"

"I don't want anything to happen to you."

His eyes are serious. Too serious. And she can only stare into them and think: _You're the same as him_.

"After all," he continues, face lighting up with amusement in a way that tells her he's going to make another joke, "If you died, you'd miss out on getting to see me again."

"I'd never let that happen," she says, vehemently, and when he leans back in surprise, she reaches for a glass that's already empty. Oh right.

He notices that she'd tried to have another drink and shakes his head a little. "On that note, we should go," he tells her, and her heart sinks when she recognizes it's her last moment to slip away if she hopes to pull it off without a fight.

She tells him she has to use the restroom, but skips by it and makes her way to the back hallway. There's an emergency exit there and she's learned, on previous visits, that the staff often disable the alarm so they can slip out to the side alley and smoke or take a break.

She steps into the cool night air, letting the last haze of the alcohol settle in, embracing the way it dulls everything. She wishes she could pull this feeling out whenever things get to be too much.

She tries not to think about the fact that each step is one more she willfully takes away from him. Tries not to imagine his reaction when he realizes she'd left him without even saying goodbye.

Some nights, she doesn't know how she manages, and this… _this_ is one of those nights.

The only thing that sustains her is knowing she can come back. And it's not like he'll have memories of this, no matter how guilty she feels. She'll fix things next time.

She's always trying to fix things.

**XXXXXX**

The moment Sara returns to consciousness, she wishes she hadn't.

It feels like the ship is moving, which isn't helping her sense of orientation in any way. They're supposed to be going to 1994 today and maybe they've already started, hell if she knows (she's not that great at keeping on top of things, lately).

Whether they're moving or not, the room around her feels like it's spinning in circles, a dull ache lives in the back of her head, her heart's racing at twice its normal rhythm, and she's afraid if she even _breathes_ wrong she might pass out.

She bites her lip to distract herself from the unpleasant feelings spreading through her entire body like a plague.

She opens her eyes a little to find the lighting in her room is pretty dim (had she set that last night?).

"You awake?" The whisper barely reaches her bed and Sara's operating on just enough cognitive ability to recognize Jax's voice.

She can't turn her head to look at him. She has the oddest feeling that if she does, she'll fall off the bed and through the floor of her room and end up in space. In nothingness. Forever.

She inhales a breath, hating the monumental effort it'll take to speak, and then forces herself to do so. "What, Jax?"

His voice gets so-much-painfully louder. "Man, you look like you could use –"

"A drink?"

"I was going to say an intervention."

She laughs abruptly. And it hurts. "I like my suggestion more."

"I just wanted to see how you were this morning."

"What's special about this morning?"

"You kind of came in last night like, uh…"

She can't fix him with a glare (she still can't move), but the aggravated sigh on her part must scare him.

"Like a tornado. Almost. Not that those are bad things! Personally, I think they're wonders of nature and when I was a kid I couldn't get enough of the movie _Twister_. In fact, I wanted to chase storms and –"

She holds up a hand and his words cease instantly.

She uses the newfound silence to think back to the night before. Most of her visit with Leonard is there, but things were kind of muddled after they'd received their bills. Drinking that much, coupled with the time travel (on top of what these trips are already doing to her) means that after she left the club, all she has are flashes of what she'd done. Walking the streets of Central City in the dark. Hearing from Gideon that the timeline hadn't changed (that was good, at least). Docking with the Waverider. Walking down an empty corridor, turning a corner and nearly tripping over –

Jax. Right.

She keeps her eyes shut to try and stop the nausea, but she knows he's still there. She has to give him an answer if she expects any peace today. "I don't…fully remember."

"I'm not surprised." He hesitates before continuing, "You were pretty out of it."

Everything that he says...it's almost like he's afraid to say it. Is she that terrifying, lately? Or have things really gotten that bad without her noticing?

"I had a little too much to drink," she says, voice far too brittle, and before the thought can even crystallize that she should get up for a drink, she hears him drop a bottle of water onto the bed beside her. When she fails to react, he drops a bottle of aspirin, too – she can tell by the way the pills rattle around, mocking her with relief that's both close and far away.

She turns onto her side, waits a moment to make sure she's not going to pass out from the movement, and opens her eyes to find that Jax has returned to hovering near her open door. She can only see him clearly because of light streaming in from the hallway.

"Thought you might want those," he mutters, almost sheepishly. "I've had a few crazy nights myself and…" he trails off, rubbing the back of his neck and staring at the floor.

"Thank you," she says, the words infused with more meaning than she'd known she felt. It's just…it's rare that anyone tries to care for her. Laurel had always tried, and Leonard…just last night in fact, not wanting anything to happen to her…oh God. She rubs her eyes, trying to brace against the unwelcome flood of painful memories.

The goddamn pain that will never end, not until she does.

Of course Jax notices. "Is it your head?"

She shakes her head no and then freezes – well _that_ didn't make her feel better. "It's not that, it's…" _something else entirely._ "Never mind."

She struggles with the pill bottle for a few seconds to extract four pills (she knows it's too many). She chases them down with half the bottle of water before letting her eyes shut again. She'd thought about sitting up to try and pretend she's doing better than she is, but she doesn't have it in her. Not yet.

When she doesn't say anything, he must decide he has to. "So you're all right?"

"Yeah," she lies, shrugging a little, and that hurts, too. "Just overdid it. Happens to everyone."

She might have the most trouble reading Jax of anyone else on this ship (they simply haven't spent enough time together), but she's pretty sure he doesn't believe a word she's said.

"Sara, do you…"

It's clearly another thing he can't bring himself to say. She should let it go, but the traitorous part of her asks "What?" before she can stop herself.

He takes a breath, as if to steel himself. "Do you think this is something you can come back from?"

She suspects what he's really getting at and chooses to believe it's something else. "Drinking? I don't have a problem or anything, if that's what you mean. I'll lay off for a while."

He doesn't even pretend to humor her. "These visits, Sara. Do you think you can stop? And what happens if you can't?"

"Not you, too," she snaps, struggling to find the blanket that she must have kicked down by her feet sometime in the night. She pulls it up around herself (and that's when she realizes she's still fully clothed, uncomfortable jeans and all). "This is just a hangover, it's not about –"

"I saw you last night," he interrupts. "You weren't okay."

"I don't –"

"You told me that leaving 2013 is one of the hardest things you've ever had to do."

She wants to deny it, but his words bring up that specific memory which had been mercifully forgotten until this moment. "I didn't know what I was saying."

"Every time, Sara!" He's visibly upset now. "You said that it's the hardest thing _every time_. And that it's getting worse."

Well, she'd said it because it was true. Why did she have to be an honest drunk? Why had she simply never learned to _keep her mouth shut_?

He goes on when she won't speak. "It's funny, too, because you were always so eager to tell us that things were getting better for you. Was that a lie?"

"No, I…" she sighs heavily. "It _was_ getting better." Then it stopped…and it turned. And now she doesn't know what's happening anymore. At least she hadn't said anything about –

"How did you really feel about Leonard?"

Some part of her revolts at his choice of words, she actually opens her mouth to say it's not about what she _used_ to feel, it's about what she feels _right now_. Thankfully, now that she's sober, she clamps down on the desire to correct him.

She runs through a half-dozen possible answers before deciding that it's safest to ask, "What'd I say?"

Jax just looks at her with the same kind of sadness she'd seen on Stein when they'd had their initial talk about her trips to 2013.

That must mean it's pretty bad.

She tries to play it off. "You know we say things while drinking that we don't really mean." _Or mean far too much_. "I won't be drinking that much next time. Maybe I won't drink at all."

"So you're going back." It's not a question, just a statement laced with unhappiness.

She hasn't let any of the others take this away from her (and short of forcing her, they've damn well tried) so there's no way she's letting him do it. "I have to."

"No. You don't."

She lets her annoyance shine through, because it's easier than trying to defend her stance time and again. "You don't know anything about it. Don't pretend like you do."

To his credit, Jax doesn't immediately back down in the face of her anger. "I know it's not good for you."

"Don't you guys get it by now? It doesn't matter if it's good for me, it doesn't matter if it hurts, it doesn't matter if I'm starting to –" she manages to stop, grateful she hadn't let slip what her mental state has been like lately. " _I don't_ _care_."

"That's the problem."

She presses her hands to her face. She can't look at him anymore – not because she doesn't want to see his face, but because she can't let him see hers. "Please…go."

After a few moments, she hears the doors slide open and shut, and forces herself to breathe deeply in an attempt to stop the sudden urge to cry. She knows they want to help her, but why can't they see that they're asking the impossible of her?

When the doors open again a few minutes later, she bites back the vicious words she wants to say. "I told you to go."

"Sara."

Ohhhh, even better. "If it isn't Rip Hunter, himself. What have I done to earn such an honor?"

"Jax is worried about you."

"Tell him to get in freaking line."

That earns her a few seconds of silence; either he's disappointed in her response, or the bitterness of it has surprised him. "He said you had a…rough night?"

"Nothing compared to this morning," she says, pointedly referring to his presence. And speaking of that – all this talking is making her feel like she's run a marathon and all she wants to do is collapse – but she's already lying down and there's nothing she can do to ease her misery. "Just kill me."

"Hangover that bad?" There's no sympathy in his tone.

"No." She pauses for effect. "I just don't want to talk to you."

"That's no different from when you're not hungover, then."

He has a good point. "You must be feeling pretty daring to come in my room without asking."

"I might. If this was your room."

"What?"

"Gideon, lights at fifty percent."

"No, please don't," she begs, but the light is unrelenting. She carefully opens her eyes, letting them adjust as she looks around – and she'll be damned if he isn't telling the truth.

A wall full of textbooks? Hair care products? Random gadgets strewn about?

She shifts and is there something under her pillow? A book? No, a _journal_ –

She's in Ray's room. How the hell did she make her way in here? And perhaps more importantly, _where's Ray_?

Rip sees the question on her face. "Mr. Palmer slept in your room, I believe. He tried to move you but you just kept kicking him. You fight surprisingly well even when you're significantly impaired. He decided it wasn't worth either of you getting seriously hurt."

She'd thought that was a dream… The guilt rises, shaming her in its unexpectedness. It's one thing for her to hurt herself, but she doesn't need to be hurting others, and certainly not the few people she has left in the world who care about her.

He steps closer to the bed, perhaps wanting to make sure his next words are truly heard, but she speaks before he does. "I'll save you the trouble: I don't like myself much right now, either."

He frowns. "That's not what I was going to say. Not even close."

"Well, maybe it should be."

"Let's not get into what I should and shouldn't be telling you to do."

"When have you ever cared about that?" she scoffs.

He takes too long to respond, and she thinks he might be trying to remain composed. (Funny, she never thought of that as a problem for him before.) "We'll talk later, when you're not in such a…precarious state." He leaves before she can manage a scornful enough reply.

 _A precarious state_. That's probably the most diplomatic way he could think of to call her an absolute trainwreck.

And it's not like he's wrong, either.


End file.
